


My Antoinette

by pepper_snow



Category: Jane Eyre - Charlotte Brontë
Genre: Ableism, Ableist Language, Bertha deserved better, F/F, Gen, Love at First Sight, Rare Pairing, Romance, Siblings, Slavery mention, crack ship, different POVs, lot of dialogue, semi-canon, slightly altered names, some racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 16:32:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 35,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17328551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepper_snow/pseuds/pepper_snow
Summary: What if you took all the negative characters from Jane Eyre and turned them nice? What if the madwoman was not mad? What if there was more to Miss Ingram? What if something else happened the night of Richard Mason's visit? And what if Grace Poole got to tell her part?Written from POV of Grace Poole and Blanche (Bianca here) Ingram. Like in Wide Sargasso Sea, Bertha is called Antoinette. Some original characters feature, but only in minor parts. Millcote is called what it is - Leeds. If Yorkshire is famous for something to come out of here, then why should it be erased? (Also, Leeds is cool.) This is not an anti-Jane Eyre fic (though she features little) but it's definitely not a Rochester-friendly fic. Enjoy!Cover image credit: Ahmet Sali on Unsplash





	1. Chapter 1

Grace Poole

 

I can still see the fire when I close my eyes. The flames high against the night sky, the smoke-filled passage, the crack-crack sound of everything burning. I’m not likely to forget it soon.

The House of Lies was destroyed by its own deception, I could have said. But that would have been a lie as well. The truth is much less poetic. The fire that tore down Thornfield Hall was an accident. An enormously stupid mistake on my part, but that is the truth. They tell me it wasn’t my fault. “You were sleeping in your chair when the fire started,” she says. Young Lord Ingram claims we can’t go around worrying about every single little candle. But I’m not so sure. I should have been more cautious, I should have taken that candle away. Worst I would have had to deal with would have been the master’s anger or a fellow servant’s annoyance. And I swear to god who made me, I didn’t have a drop of drink that night. I have never denied I liked a drink or two—or the whole bottle. But that night, the night Thornfield Hall burned, I was sober.

I was so tired. Working at Thornfield took its toll on me. I had been looking after that wretched woman for ten years. Ten years locked in the inner room of the attic for being what she was; that was her life. Anyone deprived of freedom for so long would have gone mad. Frequently she would scream and tear her hair out. On good days, she used to sit in the armchair or on the floor and rocked herself to and fro, but on bad days… oh god, the bad days! I was so weary. And there was nothing for her, only more years of imprisonment.

I took this position all those years ago, little suspecting how it would turn out. A letter was received at the Grimsby Retreat, where I lived and worked, from Mr Rochester of Thornfield Hall, near Leeds, seeking to hire a nurse and I was recommended. I travelled to Thornfield Hall, met Mr Rochester and my new charge and told what my responsibilities would be. It wasn’t my place to ask why he brought his wife all the way from Jamaica to his home in England only to hide her and keep up an appearance of a bachelor. The pay was good. I needed something to do. I had just lost my husband and left my young son Robert with the Quakers. And Mrs Rochester was not like any other patient I had worked with before. She interested me.

In the beginning, she would sit in a chair without a word, staring into nothingness. With time she opened up to me. “Antoinette…” were her first words whispered to me, “my name is Antoinette… remember that… Grace.” My master called her Bertha, I don’t know why. Antoinette was her middle name, but as I understood, she always preferred it to Bertha and that’s how everyone knew her back home.  She was beautiful then, with deep dark eyes and skin that made me think of faraway places. A decade spent locked in the attic made her face all puffy, her eyes bloodshot and her skin and hair lost their shine.

I found out she liked books and during the early years, I would smuggle her volumes from the library. Then she stopped reading. Just like that, without warning, she didn’t want to read any more. I was sorry.

My duty was to look after her, detached. To make sure she had food and water and stayed in the attic. And to make sure nobody knew.

It wasn’t for me to pity the mad wife. It wasn’t for me to grow to care about her. But I did.

That was the reason I couldn’t resign my position. Who would look after her after I was gone? There was nobody in the whole country as capable as me, nobody. Even if I did like a drink. They would be cruel to her, I was sure, maybe even hurt her. I couldn’t allow that.

But there was nothing I could do for her.

And there was nothing I could do for myself. Ten years looking after the woman in the attic, I oft felt quite as mad as her.

 

Desperation, coupled with grief over the death of my dear sister Agnes, eight years after my arrival to Thornfield Hall, made me reach for the bottle more often. If only I could tell someone of my ordeal! But letting the secret of the attic out would do no good, not after so many years. Mr Rochester was good to me, he never scolded me for my drinking. I could not speak to anyone at Thornfield, for the other servants respected me greatly. I always wore a mask of cool calmness anytime I entered the kitchen or the servants’ hall. I excelled at that art, I mastered it a long time ago. They only suspected half of the reality of the attic, a vague story of a relative, a cousin or maybe even a bastard sister, prone to hysteria. No doubt they were a little scared of me too. I liked that.

The housekeeper, Mrs Fairfax, didn’t know either. She was a kind, honourable, god-fearing woman. She would not be able to bear the sordid details of the attic.

Who, then, was here to listen to me? Outside presented few opportunities. I didn’t get out much, apart from monthly trips to the bank in Leeds. The bank clerks are not the kind of folk you confide secrets to. The vicar? Out of the question. I didn’t wish to bring trouble on the master. I only needed to pour my heart out. The nature of my work didn’t allow for friends and I was loath to worry my son. The local innkeeper would only gossip. My dear Agnes was dead and buried. If only I had told her while she lived! Now, there was no one, no one… God may have listened, or he may have not. _Oh Lord, forgive me my sins_.

So it remained the bottle of gin.


	2. Chapter 2

Grace Poole

The chain of events that eventually led to the end of Thornfield Hall started with the arrival of Mr Rochester’s new ward, a little girl called Adele, with her nursemaid Sophie, followed by a governess, Miss Jane Eyre. This was disconcerting for me. Don’t get me wrong, I thought it was a grand gesture from my master to take responsibility over this orphaned child. But I couldn’t fathom why he didn’t send her to school and let her live in a house with a secret like ours instead.   
I didn’t worry for myself. Adele was a sweet child and Miss Eyre a quiet young woman of good manners. Mrs Fairfax was satisfied with her and I trusted her judgement. It was my mistress I worried for.   
What if she should catch a sight of the child? Had she ever wished for a child of her own? What could it do to her, if she had? And the governess? A woman plain, but still a woman and a young one, not yet twenty.   
I watched the face of my mistress closely. I had learnt over the years that my lady had a kind of instinct. She could tell when master was at home and knew when there were visitors, without ever venturing beyond the attic. I observed a long ago that she was more content when he was away from home, which, thankfully, was often.  
Rumours in the servants’ hall suggested little Adele was Mr Rochester’s own daughter. Mrs Fairfax would put a stop to these immediately, with harsh words for any foolish maid who would indulge in such gossip. For me, it didn’t matter—but what of my mistress? Could those wagging tongues bring the ill words to her ears?   
I had a look at the little girl once, when the door to the schoolroom was ajar. She was a lovely child, very unlike our master. True, she could have inherited her looks solely from her mother, who appeared to be a French dancer of some sort and not have the appearance of her father (my dear Agnes was alike our mother as a reflection in the mirror). But it was enough to reassure me and in turn to reassure my master’s wife. I told her that Mr Rochester took in a little orphan from France, whose father was a friend to Mr Rochester. She was sitting curled up in the big old shabby armchair with her eyes closed. I knew she wasn’t asleep and could hear me. “I thought you should know, ma’am,” I added.  
After a few minutes of silence, I allowed myself a sigh of relief. She took it well after all.   
Then, a burst of laughter cut through the room like a knife. I dropped my spoon. What a laugh! “Ma’am—” I stammered. “Whatever is the matter?”  
For it was not a happy laugh. It was mad. And sinister. Mad, mad, mad.   
But she just smiled and said: “Oh, my dear Grace.” Nothing more.  
I shivered.   
That night, I had a nightmare.

The master returned from his travels yet again. My mistress became restless at once. And now, there was the young governess. Mr Rochester got in the habit of spending a lot of time with her.  
“Miss Eyre is sort of a pet of his,” remarked Mrs Fairfax one day in the servants’ hall.  
A shiver went down my spine.  
It was one thing to have mistresses all over the country and abroad, men of his station have them. But the governess…   
I resolved to learn more about this Jane Eyre.   
According to Mrs Fairfax, Miss Eyre lost her parents at a young age and was brought up by her aunt, who mistreated her. Later she was sent to boarding school, where she trained to be a teacher.   
“So she has no one,” I said, “no family or friends.”  
The housekeeper and I exchanged an understanding look. She was a wise woman.   
I had seen the man lock his wife in the attic and pretend he was unmarried. I had heard about his exploits on the Continent… but to seduce a woman in his employ, so much younger and with nobody to protect her—once again, a shiver went down my spine and for the first time, I felt disgust towards my master.

The bottle of gin. The cursed bottle of gin…  
She escaped.   
She slipped out of the attic while I was asleep. She broke into her husband’s chamber and set fire to his bed.   
Oh, how I was ashamed of myself. He came up to investigate, but didn’t reproach me.   
“She took the keys out of my pocket while I slept,” I told him.   
He reminded me to be more watchful and returned downstairs.  
“What have you done, Antoinette!”  
It was the first time I called her by her name. “What on earth have you done?”  
And again, that laugh.   
Later, I was sewing a bed curtain in his bedchamber. Normally I would never have entered the room, but I was, and still am, a skilled seamstress and my skills were needed. Jane Eyre came in and started asking questions about the fire. I told her the agreed story; that his curtain caught fire when he fell asleep while reading and that he put it out by himself.  
I was sure Miss Eyre suspected me from the misdeed. I let her believe so. In turn, I suspected she was the one who had saved the master’s life. Her own room was the closest to his.   
She did admit she heard a noise.   
Then she said she heard a strange laugh.  
I kept my hand steady while I threaded the needle. I suggested she had been dreaming. That the master was hardly in a position to laugh when he was in such danger. Had she told the master about the laugh?  
“I have not had the opportunity of speaking to him this morning,” she said.  
“You did not think of opening your door and looking out into the gallery?” I asked.  
No, she said she had bolted her door.   
I knew she wasn’t speaking the truth and she knew I knew. I could tell Miss Eyre was not in the habit of telling lies.  
She is a pet of his, Mrs Fairfax’s words came back to me.   
Yes, I could see why. She was nothing like the ladies he had relations with. A good, honest, hard-working girl. She was in danger from both Mr and Mrs Rochester. I must be careful with the bottle of gin…  
I could do nothing but to warn her to bolt her door every night. I made a speech about not trusting all to Providence (I think, I don’t remember anymore), when the cook came in and asked about my dinner and Miss Eyre was summoned by Mrs Fairfax.

That spring, guests arrived to Thornfield Hall. The magistrate Mr Eshton, with his wife and daughters, our MP Sir George Lynn and Lady Lynn with their two sons, Colonel Dent and Mrs Dent and Lady Ingram and her son and two daughters. I had seen all of them before, of course, but for the Ingrams. They were an old family, though from what I heard, the two daughters weren’t well provided for as the majority of the estate went to their brother, Lord Ingram.  
No doubt both Misses Ingram are looking for a good match, I heard whisperings when I came to the kitchen to fetch my meal. Leah was saying to another maid: “And Miss Bianca is... well… you’ve seen her beauty.”  
I halted. I squeezed the handles of the meal tray until my knuckles went white.   
I took a few breaths. Once my heartbeat calmed down, I went on up the stairs to the attic. 

I thought her instinct would have alerted her, but if it did so, her face didn’t show anything.   
But I knew. And I was afraid.   
Why did he do it? Why did he bring company to stay at Thornfield? Why did he spend so much time with the governess?  
Nothing made sense.  
My mistress spoke to me less and less. She bit her fingers till they bled. Her face started turning blue, almost purple. And that laugh… oh how often she laughed that laugh and how that laugh scared me!  
She was lying in the bed, facing the wall. “Ma’am, company is here,” I said. No answer. “The local MP and the magistrate and their wives… and the Colonel and Mrs Dent. Their children too, young men and women…”   
Nothing.  
“There is a Lady Ingram among the visitors,” I continued. “A very distinguished lady, a widow. She brought her son along and two daughters. The older one is called Bianca.”  
Nothing but silence. Then she shook her head.


	3. Chapter 3

Grace Poole

I didn’t know about that knife.   
Later she confessed to me she had got it some three or four years before, stole it from the kitchen one night when I slept, during her husband’s unusually long stay at home. She hid it under the bed, but lost her nerve and forgot it was there.   
And then she remembered.  
Truthfully, I wouldn’t blame her if she had used that knife on her husband, God forgive me, I would not blame her. Should one really be surprised at a sight of an abused victim, lessened by years of captivity to something barely human, turn on her tormentor?   
But it wasn’t her oppressor of a husband that she used the knife on. It was her brother.   
Mr Richard Mason had come to visit his sister a few times before. I thought him a meek fellow, though charming and handsome. His colouring, unlike his sister, was more English than Creole, though they shared the same facial features. As much as he loved and cared about my mistress, he could not protect her. Even if he had contemplated rescuing her from her prison—which I don’t know if he had—he would not be capable, or brave enough to carry it out. Nevertheless, he would thank me on each visit and his gratefulness was sincere.  
The timing was unfortunate. The party at Thornfield Hall was having ill effect on my mistress. First the child Adele, then the governess. And now, the worst of all, the young and merry ladies walking the grounds of Thornfield Hall, giggling and dancing and singing and playing the piano and trying on new gowns and braiding each other’s hair… it was a lovely sight, no doubt, and under different circumstances it would have been a pleasure to be in service of such company, to sew a dress for a Miss Ingram or a Miss Eshton. But as it was, I saw the gaieties through my mistress’s eyes. This was the life she should have had. She should have been the host, the lady of the manor, organising meals and picnics and rides and arranging the flowers. This should have been her life and it was taken from her.   
The unfortunate creature sat in the corner of the room and howled for hours. She caught a glimpse of the young ladies from the window. I did what I could to comfort her, but in the end decided it was for the best to let her go on, until she grew tired. I was so worn out that day, I dozed off in my usual chair by the door. Her howls turned into low cries, until she went quiet. Through my heavy eyelids, I saw her lying on the thick carpet, curled up like a cat. I will move her to bed, I said to myself, I just need to close my eyes for a bit. Only for one or two minutes… tired, so tired…  
The door opened.  
I was up on my feet at once. “Mr Mason!” I exclaimed at the sight of the visitor. “Why, we never expected you!”  
“Good evening, Grace,” he said. “How are you tonight?”  
“Very well, sir, just a mite tired. How about yourself?”  
“I’m as well as I can be, dear Grace. And how is my sister doing?”  
He received his answer, loud and clear.

A shrill cry rang through Thornfield Hall, multiplied in the stillness of the night.   
I had not realised how late it was—it was past midnight when Mr Mason entered the room. The mad lady, still in her cat-like position by the wall, raised her head to look at the visitor. She lifted herself on all four, crawled to the bed, grabbed the knife from its hiding place and sprang up. Before her brother could finish the question, she ran towards him with the knife!  
I stood frozen. I don’t think I could have done anything, even if I could move. “Antoinette, it’s me!” Mr Mason cried tenderly. “It’s me, Richard.”  
All the anger that was brewing inside her over the last decade culminated in that moment. She stabbed him and stabbed him, again and again. At first he managed to dodge most of her blows, once or twice grabbed the wrist of the hand that held the knife, but she twisted and fought. It would have taken four strong men to restrain her. Mr Mason was powerless.  
At last I felt I could move my limbs and approached the fighters. “Ma’am,” I said.   
She stopped with her hand in the air. Mr Mason quickly grabbed her arms. “Give me the knife, please,” I said, calmly but resolutely.   
Her hand, the one that held the knife, lowered. She handed me the knife. I threw it behind the cabinet.   
“Antoinette,” said her brother lovingly, “sister, don’t you know me anymore?”  
And then, she bit him.   
She sank her teeth into his shoulder until blood came out.   
I gasped. Anything, anything I would imagine her to do in that state of madness, it wasn’t this. I don’t remember other than that I stood there with my mouth open and meanwhile, Mr Mason’s cry shattered the quiet night of Thornfield Hall.

Later that night, I washed her face in cold water. Tears didn’t stop coming out of her eyes. She was human, then, still human. Beasts don’t weep, not like this.  
I led her to the bed, sat down on it and laid her head on my lap. She didn’t protest once.  
I comforted her like I did my son when he was little and scraped his knee. “Shhh, now don’t cry anymore, it is all right.”  
A memory came to me, a memory of my dear Agnes and her grief over a child she had lost. She had put her head on my shoulder and wept silent tears and I stroked her hair.   
That’s what I did to my mistress. I stroked her hair, murmuring comforting words, thinking how thick that hair still was, still jet-black and wavy, if unkempt. I resolved to comb it for her every day. My sister had dark hair too, though a shade lighter. When she was a young girl, it reached almost to her waist.   
My lady’s eyes closed and soon she was asleep. I laid her carefully on the bed and covered her with blankets. Then, I kissed her forehead.   
I know. I said it was not my place to care.   
But I cared.   
And, as I laid my mistress to sleep and went back to my chair, I realised I had been calling her by my sister’s name.

In the outer room, Jane Eyre was tending to Mr Mason, while Mr Rochester went to fetch Dr Carter. Once again, as with the fire, Miss Eyre thought me the culprit. I wondered how long the master could go on concealing the truth from her. Mr Mason, for her benefit, told the doctor it was Mr Rochester who saved him. Lies and more lies.  
Thornfield was the House of Lies.  
I was weary but sleep would not come so I took up my sewing. The house was quiet again. As I understood, the initial commotion was promptly extinguished by Mr Rochester, who made up a story of a servant having a nightmare (lies, lies, lies) and sent everyone back to bed. My mistress, awakened from the bout of madness, saw at once that it was her brother she attacked. She collapsed on the floor, sobs shaking her body. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, Richard…” She wailed and wailed.  
That’s when Mr Rochester came in and bundled Mr Mason out. But before he left, I looked in Mr Mason’s face and from his expression I knew he forgave her.  
How come she mistook her brother for her husband? They were nothing alike, maybe apart from their height. She never attacked me, never, even when I was tough with her.   
But of course, it was the men that hurt her.  
Her father and Mr Rochester’s father arranged this marriage. Mr Rochester, at first taken by her beauty soon grew cold and cruel towards her when she refused to bend to his will. Her brother loved her, but what did she gain from this, when he couldn’t even stand up to her oppressor?   
My hands fell onto my sewing. I shut my eyes for a moment, trying to bring to my mind a picture of Agnes.   
She loved forget-me-nots. She used to pick them and weave them into her dark hair. The flowers were the same colour as her eyes.   
“Don’t you think forget-me-nots are the most beautiful of flowers?” she told me once. Forget-me-not, Grace. I will forget you not, my Agnes. Her hair blew in the wind. She ran down the moor, her dark mane flying. “Grace, forget-me-nots, look at the forget-me-nots!” she laughed.  
“Grace?”  
“Yes, Agnes?” I said.  
“Grace Poole!”  
Why was she calling me that? My surname was not Poole, I was not married yet.  
“Mrs Poole, awake please!”  
Why is my sister calling me Mrs Poole? “Agnes, what is it?” I murmured.  
I saw her through a slit in my eye. The hair hung on the sides of face, dark as always. But the face was different, her eyes the wrong colour, brown not blue.  
“Grace Poole!”  
She took the sewing from my hands. “You almost pricked your fingers with the needle,” she said.   
The touch of the hands of a noble lady finally brought me back to earth. I blinked several times in disbelief.   
In front of me stood Miss Bianca Ingram.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter the first chapter of Miss Bianca Ingram. Her brother Lord Theodore Ingram, aka Teddy, also appears (and will continue to do so till the end).

Bianca

“What the deuce are you dragging me out of bed for?” Teddy grumbled.  
“Something’s going on in this house.”  
“Another nightmare-prone servant?”  
“I don’t think there was one in the first place.”  
“What then? Did anyone get murdered? Tell me more.” He got up.  
“Not murder, but something suspicious for sure. Listen, Teddy. Edward spoke of a nervous and excitable servant—a woman, if you remember. But I know what I heard and I know it was a male voice that screamed.”  
“If you say so…” he yawned. “I heard nothing. It was the thump-thump of Colonel Dent’s boots outside my door that woke me up.”  
“It came from upstairs, from the other side of the house.”  
“Upstairs?”  
“The attic, I presume.”  
“Wait, aren’t the servants’ quarters on the ground floor?”  
“That’s the point. Except… According to Ellie, that strange woman, Grace Poole, lives up in the attic.”  
“Who’s Grace Poole?”  
“Ellie says she’s a seamstress, but there’s something odd about her.”  
Teddy was getting dressed. “Have you slept at all?”  
“Not a wink since the commotion.”  
“You’ll kill yourself with this one day, you know. You need to sleep.”  
“I couldn’t tonight… anyway, you know that governess girl?”  
“What about her?”  
“I saw her coming out of Edward’s bedroom with something that looked like a phial. She took it upstairs.”  
“Ah, the plot thickens.”  
With practiced skill, they exited Teddy’s room and slid through the passage to the staircase. Having climbed the steps, they found themselves in the corridor of the attic.   
“Quiet as a grave,” Teddy commented. “Doesn’t rule out dead body, though.”  
“It wasn’t like that before, I’m telling you.”  
“Well, Mrs Eshton did mention once she heard some sounds from up here. But Rochester said it was only rats or mice.”  
“Except we know that’s nonsense. They’ve got cats here. You remember the tabby that you tried to pat yesterday?”  
“The adorable kitty that hisses at everyone? That almost bit me? That one?”  
“Apparently she’s a great mouser…”  
They stopped in front of a door. “This door locked?” Teddy tried the handle. It opened into a spacious room, which was dominated by a large bed with curtains. There were a couple of chairs, a comfortable armchair, and a night stand. The window faced the backyard. The sun was rising.   
Bianca looked out of the window. “Teddy, come here and see this!”   
“It’s that fellow Whatshisname from yesterday.”  
“Mr Richard Mason.”  
They just caught sight of Mr Mason being helped into a post-chaise and the post-chaise promptly departing Thornfield. Edward stood there, watching it leave.  
Why at this early hour, Bianca wondered. She was certain she heard him say he would stay at least one additional full day.  
Teddy went to examine the walls. Bianca looked around. “There’s nothing here,” she said, not without disappointment. “Yet, I could swear…” she drew the bed curtain. The light was now coming through the window. “Teddy, are these drops of blood, you think?”  
“They could be,” Teddy looked them over. “Bianca, come have a look at this tapestry.”  
He motioned her to the wall on other side of the bed. “Touch it here.”  
She ran her hand over the tapestried wall. Not smooth.  
“It’s a door,” he said.   
A hidden door to a hidden room…


	5. Chapter 5

Grace Poole

“Miss Ingram, how—how did you come to be here?”  
Her expression was warm and friendly, a little smile on her lips. She really was a beautiful woman, tall and slim, with hair as dark and thick as that of my mistress and eyes the shade of honey brown.  
Miss Ingram put my sewing on the top of the cabinet. “I thought I would look for this nightmare-stricken servant for myself. Looks like I found her.”  
Leaning against the closed door with his arms crossed was the young Lord Theodore Ingram, the present lady’s older brother. He was just as good-looking, with strong jawline, shaggy hair, with a look of amusement on his face. “Buongiorno,” he said.  
I shot a look at the bed. My mistress was asleep. The room was brighter—it was morning.  
“My apologies for disturbing your peaceful slumbers, Miss,” I recited, “sometimes I am prone to nightmares, though I am not usually in the habit of waking the whole house.”  
“Come now, Mrs Poole.” Her tone was friendly, but firm.  
It was foolish of me, certainly. Both Ingrams saw my mistress in her bed as soon as they entered the room and by now gathered there was no servant troubled by a nightmare. But that is what living in the House of Lies does to you.  
“How do you know my name?” I asked. They never struck me as the kind of folk who learn the names of servants in a stranger’s home.  
“From my maid Ellie. She got friendly with one of your housemaids, Leah I think she’s called?”  
I stood up. “Forgive me my manners, Miss and Lord Ingram. I must have fallen asleep over my sewing.”  
“Never mind your manners, Mrs Poole.” She gestured to the bed. “So, tell me, who is the sleeping beauty?”  
My throat went dry. “She’s my charge.”  
“Yes, I can see that. Who is this your charge?”  
What was I supposed to say? What was the story presented to the servants? A lunatic… a relation?  
Miss Ingram helped me: “Is she perhaps a relation to our Mr Rochester?”  
“Yes, that’s right, ma’am. A relation.”  
The siblings exchanged a look.  
“Fear not, Mrs Poole,” Lord Ingram spoke for the first time. “Anything you tell us, stays between us. You are not betraying your master.”  
“Forgive me my boldness, my lady and lord, but I do not see why I should be telling you anything. Thornfield Hall is Mr Rochester’s house. And this is no way for guests to behave, if you excuse me, snooping around in your host’s abode.”  
Miss Ingram smiled.  
“Ah,” her brother said, “but do you not know that my sister will be marrying your master this summer? She will be the mistress of Thornfield Hall.”  
_No!_  
I almost shouted, almost.  
“I have not heard the news,” I said. At least that was the truth. Leah’s chattering was just that.  
It is a custom to congratulate one upon engagement. What was I to say? Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials, Miss Ingram, and by the way, this is your future husband’s wife. She is mad and lives in this attic and I have been looking after her for ten years and will look after her for ten more or twenty more or however long we both live.  
“Yes, this will be my house soon,” Miss Ingram nodded. “And isn’t it better I learn of its secrets before the wedding, rather than after?”  
Her tone was playful, as if it was a game. Charades, or whatever it is that the noble folk play.  
She walked to the bed and bent down. “It looks like this one’s had a rough time.”  
_If she wakes and attacks Miss Ingram!_  
In my wickedness I thought it would serve Miss Ingram right if my mistress should attack her, for nosing around in Thornfield. But if, after all, she was marrying Mr Rochester… she _thought_ she was marrying Mr Rochester…  
“Please be careful, Miss. She needs her sleep and should you wake her—”  
“What, will she bite me and suck my blood?” Miss Ingram laughed quietly.  
I went cold all over, though it was clear her choice of words was accidental.  
Miss Ingram kneeled next to the bed.  
Maybe I’m still sleeping and this is still a dream, I thought to myself. Why did I stand still and didn’t stop her? Noble folk or not, my duties were my duties.  
Someone was talking to me, talking to me like they would to a regular person.  
For the second time that night, my limbs failed me.  
Night. It wasn’t night, it was morning.  
“Please, be gentle with her,” I cautioned the young lady.  
My patient didn’t wake. Miss Ingram lightly touched the hand that was sticking out of the blanket. “These were beautiful hands once,” she said. “But what happened to her, the nails are all broken and fingers bitten. I hope she’s not being starved, Mrs Poole?” she turned to me.  
“Oh no, Miss Ingram, I can assure you. She is being fed three times a day.”  
“Good.” Miss Ingram rose. “Despite her distressing appearance one can assume this was a handsome woman once. Therefore, she cannot be a close relation of Edward Rochester.”  
I couldn’t help it, if my mouth twitched in amusement. “Ah, so you think so, Miss? Sir may have just been unlucky in his heredity.”  
“That may be so,” she allowed. “Edward takes after his late father—I have seen his portraits. So, I take it that the unknown lady is a relation from his mother’s side? A Fairfax?”  
“Perhaps.”  
“Not likely,” Lord Ingram put in. “The housekeeper is a Fairfax and she has no knowledge of a lady in the attic.”  
_Careful now_.  
This was clearly a lie—no way could this young man have an idea what the elderly housekeeper at Thornfield knew or not. But it was more mischief than malice.  
“She’s a Fairfax by marriage, sir.”  
“A widow, I understand,” said Miss Ingram. I nodded.  
“You are mistaken, sir,” I said to Lord Ingram. “Mrs Fairfax does know.”  
It wasn’t that big a lie, Mrs Fairfax knew something at least.  
“Does she? I guess I am indeed mistaken then. My apologies, Mrs Poole.”  
How long could we go on with this? Was this a House of Games, as well as a House of Lies?  
I addressed the young lord. “If you please, Lord Ingram, I would like a few minutes with Miss Ingram alone.”  
I was surprised I had that much courage. “Very well, Mrs Poole,” the young man failed to suppress a smile. “I will be in the next chamber.”  
Once the door closed behind him, Miss Ingram walked to the old armchair, the one that was my mistress’ favourite and sat down in it. “Shall we start, then? Or should I ask questions and you answer till we arrive at the truth?”  
“You know part of it already.”  
“So the lady is not a relation on Mr Rochester’s father’s side and maybe not on his mother’s side. Could she be a half-relation?”  
“Someone’s illegitimate daughter, you’re thinking?” I should have left it at that. I should have, but I didn’t. It wasn’t only that I was sick and tired of lies. I was angry. “No, Miss, I give you my word that the lady is not illegitimate. In fact, she is of a good family—and was quite a lady herself once.”  
“Is that so? What happened to her?”  
“She married.”  
“Ah, how tragic! Marriage. Unfortunately a burden for too many fine women. Was her husband a scoundrel?”  
I hesitated.  
“Hmmm, an inappropriate question. Never mind, never mind, let’s forget that. Is her husband still alive?”  
“He is.”  
“How long has she been living here?”  
“Ten years.”  
The young woman’s eyes went wide. “Ten years? And you’ve been looking after her all this time?”  
“I have, Miss.”  
“And she never goes out? In the ten years she’s been here, she’s not been out?”  
“No, Miss.”  
“How barbaric!”  
I shrugged. I agreed with her. “Mr Rochester pays me well, Miss.”  
“Oh he does, does he? I should think he does.”  
I waited for her to speak.  
“There was a visitor today—I mean yesterday, at Thornfield,” she said. “A Mr Mason.”  
“I believe so.”  
“Mr Mason is not attached to our little company. He is a friend of Mr Rochester’s, from his days in Jamaica. You do know your master had spent some time in the West Indies?”  
“I do, Miss.”  
“Imagine a place so far… so outlandish!” her face turned dreamy. “It must be beautiful there.”  
“I wouldn’t know about that, Miss. I’ve never left the shores of England.”  
“Ah, pay no mind, Mrs Poole, I let myself be carried away. Back to the topic, it’s been a long time since Mr Rochester travelled to Jamaica. Fifteen years, I hear.”  
“That may be so.”  
“Of course, that was before your time. Yes. Edward Rochester lived in Jamaica for five years. He came back to England and settled in Thornfield Hall after the deaths of his father and brother.”  
“You are well informed, Miss.”  
“If one is to acquire a husband, one must needs learn everything that is to know about him, since most of it you’ll never find out. My mother’s wisdom. Oh how she can gossip! But it is useful sometimes. So, let me see,” she pondered for a few moments. “Mr Mason arrives from Jamaica, claiming to be an old friend of our host, charming the ladies. Mr Mason and Mr Rochester then shut themselves in the library and don’t emerge again until the rest of the company is in bed. The same night, a servant has a nightmare. In the early hour of the morning, Mr Mason is escorted out of Thornfield Hall.”  
“But how—” _do you know about that_. I bit my tongue. “But we don’t know he was escorted out of Thornfield Hall.”  
“We do. Mr Rochester was seen putting him on a post-chaise. From the side entrance.”  
Was the House of Lies finally cracking? Mr Rochester hoped he could keep the secret of Thornfield with his usual staff, and no doubt he would. But with the coming of this company, who brought their own servants, in addition to the extra servants he had hired from nearby inns, someone was bound to see something. Especially if some of the said servants were the type to engage in shenanigans at midnight or the early hours of the morning—and chanced to look out of the windows.  
“So what is your conclusion, Miss Ingram?”  
“I have a feeling that the charming Mr Mason of Spanish Town, Jamaica has a connection to the mysterious woman in this room. She appears to be a Creole.”  
“And if your feeling proved to be true, what would it mean?”  
Miss Ingram smiled at me. “You like playing this game, Grace?”  
“It has been a long time since I had a pleasure of playing games, Miss. I should think you are quite fond of games.”  
“Sometimes. Depends on the game. You know we had a most ridiculous game yesterday? A fortune teller wandered to Thornfield.”  
“A fortune teller?”  
“An old woman, a gypsy. She came to tell us our fortunes.”  
“And did she do so?”  
“She did. But only to the young and unmarried ladies.”  
“Well, that is no fortune teller at all.”  
“And she wasn’t one. It was Mr Rochester, in disguise.”  
“Mr Rochester in disguise! Whatever did he play such a trick for?”  
She shrugged. “We all have our own amusements. He told fortunes to each one of us, one by one. The last one to go was that governess girl, what is her name…”  
“Miss Eyre?”  
“That’s it. Now, listen, Grace. Miss Eyre was the one to inform your master of Mr Mason’s arrival. You see, Edward was gone, preparing his gypsy trick, when Mr Mason came to Thornfield. We were in the dining room. Mr Rochester’s little game went on in the library. At last, it was the governess’s turn to have her fortune told. After a while, she came to the dining room, fetched some wine and went back to the library. She came out again, approached Mr Mason and whispered something to his ear. At this, Mr Mason went to the library. The governess then left, probably to retire to her bedchamber.”  
“Miss Eyre acted as a messenger.”  
“That is so. Shortly after, we all went to sleep. Until we were woken up by the noise. Mr Rochester told us to go back to our beds, with the story of a servant having a nightmare. But I couldn’t sleep. I lay in my bed with eyes open. I was sure I heard strange sounds. I peeked out of my room once, opening the door just a tiny little bit. I saw the governess coming out Mr Rochester’s room with a little phial and a glass.”  
“Oh? Interesting.”  
“I thought so too. I didn’t doubt she was acting on orders and who else could order her but her master?”  
“A reasonable assumption.”  
“Quite. As you can imagine, dear Grace, there was no possibility of me getting any sleep. In bed, I was only tossing and turning. Is my future husband taking any substances? If so, why is he having the governess carry them out of his bedchamber and why is he not in his bedchamber at this hour in the first place? I deliberated more. Eventually, I got up, got dressed, pulled Teddy out of bed and persuaded him to come with me to examine the attic.”  
“Why the attic? Was it so obvious the noise came from up here?”  
“Yes. Besides I heard noises from up here the previous nights. And not just me, other guests too. But I don’t sleep well, sometimes.”  
“And so you climbed up the stairs and found me in my chair.”  
“With your sewing. I knew you must be the Grace Poole Ellie mentioned to me more than once. It seems your fellow servants are intrigued by you.”  
“It makes one feel rather special.”  
“You are special, Grace Poole.”  
During my service at Thornfield Hall I’d received a lot of praise for my work, from Mr Rochester and Mr Mason, respect of the other servants and, I daresay, admiration from some, but nobody had ever told me anything ever so nice as this. Cheap flattery, I dismissed it, but—Miss Ingram looked genuine, there was nothing false in her face and eyes, despite her treating all that happened that night as a game.  
Even if she had embellished some of her narration, I knew the facts to be true. Mr Mason’s entry and exit, the master sending Jane Eyre on an errand to his room, all that was a fact.  
Was she, simply put, nosy?  
And what if she was? What do noble ladies have to bother themselves about if not gossip? They don’t work. And she had a right to know all about Thornfield Hall, if she was marrying… no, _believed_ she was marrying—  
“And so we reach the attic, find a hidden room behind a tapestry and enter,” continued the young lady.  
So that was it. The master, in haste, must have forgotten to conceal the door properly.  
“And find the intriguing Mrs Grace Poole, napping over her sewing—and a strange woman sleeping in the bed—a woman who visibly has not seen the sunlight for a considerable time and appears to have suffered a lot.”  
We looked at each other.  
“Miss Ingram, if I may ask, has your engagement been officially announced?”  
“Not officially yet. But it is, shall we say, a common knowledge at this point.”  
“Has your wedding date been set?”  
“We’re thinking the end of July. The wedding need not be a big affair, though mama would love it to be so. I’m more looking forward to the honeymoon. French Riviera and Italy—Switzerland perhaps too. Most of all I long to travel to West Indies, but Edward won’t hear of it. West Indies is really a sore spot for him.”  
Miss Ingram went silent. She looked lost in her thoughts.  
“Miss Ingram,” I spoke eventually. “It’s morning now. Perhaps you would like to return to your rooms?”  
“Ah yes, it’s morning, that is true. And we have not solved the mystery of the sleeping lady.”  
“Miss Ingram, I hope you will forgive me my impertinence, but I need to ask a question.”  
“Go on, Mrs Poole.”  
“Once you are married to Mr Rochester, do you intend to keep my services at Thornfield?”  
“Why, yes, Grace, you are most valuable servant. As I said, special.”  
“That means—“ I stopped, because what did that mean? That my master would commit bigamy?  
It wasn’t only a sin. It was a crime.  
The figure in the bed stirred, but didn’t wake. Bianca Ingram got up. “You need not worry, dear Grace. Should you not be able to stay at Thornfield, I will make sure to find another position for you, suitable and with good references.”  
“That is not my worry, Miss Ingram. I have saved enough to live independently and I can always earn my living by sewing. I only ask because—“  
“Because of her, I suppose?” Miss Ingram pointed at the bed.  
_This is just getting ridiculous_.  
I looked her straight in the eye. “Miss Ingram, what do you intend to do with the lady?”  
“I was hoping I would start with learning her name first.”  
And at that moment there was a gasp and my mistress woke up.


	6. Chapter 6

Bianca

The noises coming from the bed were cries, not quite human, but not cries of beast either.  
The creature intrigued her even more.  
Grace Poole approached the bed and knelt beside it just as Bianca had done a while before. “You slept well, ma’am?”  
The woman made some gurgling sound while she turned on her side and into a sitting position. She repeated the same sound over and over, until it the word became clear. It was a name. “Richard!”  
“There, there, my lady, do not distress yourself.”  
“Where is he? Where is Richard, Grace? What have I done to him?” Tear ran down her cheek. “Have I killed him?”  
_Ah, so that was the noise_.  
While Grace was consoling her charge, Bianca’s head was spinning. Who was this woman and why was she locked up in the attic room at Thornfield? Clearly Richard Mason was someone close to her—was he her husband? Did she attack him last night? What was the connection between Edward Rochester and Richard Mason? Jamaica? The key was Jamaica, but what was it? Blackmail?  
“Who—who is this in my room?” the woman cried out.  
Their eyes met.  
Large and dark, there were beautiful eyes still, despite all that must have happened to her to make her look half-human, half-beast. All Bianca saw was sorrow—but also that, in defiance of her horrible imprisonment, she still had a soul.  
“I am Miss Bianca Ingram, of Ingram Park, Lancashire.”  
The woman stared at Bianca. “Bianca… Ingram,” she repeated.  
“That’s right. I’m one of the guests here.”  
“I’m… my is… I am…” she coughed. She ran her hand through her untidy hair. “Antoinette. My name is Antoinette.”  
Antoinette. No surname, no title. Just Antoinette.  
And it was enough.  
“Antoinette… I like the name.”  
Bianca walked to the foot of the bed. Antoinette turned to Grace. “Where’s Richard?”  
“He’s gone, ma’am.”  
“Oh!” she hid her face with her hands. “Have I hurt him much?”  
“It was nothing serious, just a bit of blood. Nothing a strong man like him can’t handle. Now, have some water and I will go downstairs and bring breakfast.”  
So they _were_ drops of blood.  
“Oh, what have I done, what have I done,” Antoinette kept whispering. Bianca, wishing to be useful, filled a cup with water from the jug and handed it to Grace.  
“Drink, ma’am,” Grace put the cup to Antoinette’s lips. The lady finished the cup at once.  
Bianca watched her with fascination.  
Antoinette clasped the empty cup between her palms. “Is he—is he going back to Jamaica?”  
“He will be,” Grace answered. “He’s staying at Dr Carter’s at the present. He bears no resentment towards you, I can assure you of that, my lady.”  
There was a slight sound at the door, the handle turned. Teddy’s head appeared at the door. “I saw Rochester from the window, riding with Sir George and the colonel. They might start wondering where we are. Just letting you know.”  
At the sight of the man, Antoinette drew the blanket closer to her. “Who is that?”  
“Lord Ingram, it would be better if you stayed in the outer room,” Grace Poole said quickly.  
Bianca turned to her brother. “I am coming, just give me another minute. Wait for me there.”  
Teddy nodded and closed the door.  
“It’s only my brother Teddy, Lord Ingram. He’s harmless, you can trust me.”  
“Brother,” said Antoinette. “Yes, I have a brother too. Please don’t do to him what I did to mine.”  
“I don’t understand?”  
Grace rose. “Miss Ingram, I think it will be for the best if you follow Lord Ingram’s advice.”  
“You’re right, Mrs Poole.”  
“Please… take care on the way down. If you should be seen leaving the attic…”  
“Oh, Teddy and I are masters at sneaking around!” she laughed, “We have been since children.”  
She shook the nurse’s hand. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Grace Poole.”  
“Thank you, Miss.”  
Bianca looked at the woman in bed. “Goodbye, Antoinette.”  
“Will you come and see me again, Bianca?” she stretched out a hand.  
Bianca, feeling somewhat warmer despite no change in temperature, took the offered hand. The other woman’s hand grasped hers as if she was pleading for life. Their eyes locked.  
Afterwards, Bianca couldn’t say whether it happened then, or earlier when she first saw her, or when she first heard her name. She only knew it happened.  
“I will,” she said.  
And with that, she left the room.


	7. Chapter 7

Grace Poole

They started meeting every night.  
As soon as the clock chimed tenth hour, Miss Bianca Ingram would turn the handle of the outer room door and walk in.   
She was truly the master of sneaking. All throughout their stay at Thornfield, not once did she get caught.   
The first and second time, Lord Ingram accompanied his sister upstairs and stayed in the outer room, reading a book and keeping watch. From the third meeting, I took on that duty myself.   
“I can take over, my lord, you should go and get your sleep,” I told him.  
“Well, if you’re sure of that…”  
“I am.”  
He looked at me for a few seconds, then closed his book and stood up. “I trust your judgement, Mrs Poole, but should you need me, you know where my bedchamber is?”  
I nodded. He left.  
This was the first time I had left my mistress with another person, without my presence.   
I was nervous at first. My fingers weren’t steady holding the needle, so I put the sewing away. I felt it would be wrong to listen at the door, yet I had to be watchful. But I consoled myself that if any trouble should arise, I will hear it.  
It was foolishness, of course, the whole business was a folly. How long could it go on, I asked and asked. At the same time, it broke the monotony of the House of Lies. It was—exciting. I felt less tired.  
Miss Ingram asked no more questions regarding the identity of my mistress. No doubt she realised it was wiser so. She would learn it sooner or later.  
She would—but at what price?  
The first night, when I was in the room with them, Miss Ingram settled herself in my mistress’ favourite armchair, while my mistress sat up on her bed. I was in my usual chair by the door.  
“So, Grace, tell me what it is that you’re sewing?” Miss Ingram asked, as a way of starting the conversation.  
“Just a little something for my niece Hannah.”  
The conversation then turned to fashion, frocks and bonnets and shawls. My lady talked, her voice still hoarse but she talked like I’ve not heard her before. Of all the beautiful dresses she used to have as a young girl in Jamaica and how her mother made them herself. Miss Ingram then talked about how she and her sister Mary would recommend gowns to each other and how they braided each other’s hair.  
At the mention of hair, my mistress rose from the bed and went to fetch her comb. There was no mirror in the room—she would see her reflection in the glass of the window when it was dark outside.  
“Will you let me comb your hair, Antoinette?” Miss Ingram asked.  
She did.  
The second night, Miss Ingram asked more about Jamaica. Antoinette’s eyes went teary as she described the beautiful villa her parents had on the edge of Spanish Town, the palm trees and flowers that grew in the garden, the horses she rode. My ears pricked when she mentioned her brother, but she never said his name, only that he was at some school. Miss Ingram then talked about her childhood in Ingram Park. I drifted away, conjuring in my mind images of young black-haired girls in dresses of white, yellow, peach, pale blue…


	8. Chapter 8

Bianca

Mother had been chattering about the upcoming nuptials all day. Bianca was glad to be away from it at last.  
She glanced at the clock. Half-past nine.  
Half an hour to go.  
The feeling of warmth around her heart, spreading through her veins to the rest of her body, experienced for the first time in the early hours of the morning she first spoke to Antoinette, grew greater every day. It was both pleasure and pain, bliss and misery, heaven and hell.  
She didn’t fight it.  
Perhaps she should have. No good can come from love, mother used to say. She was right, of course, but oh, can one really resist something so intense?  
She’d had it before, with Isabelle. One summer eight years ago, Isabelle was staying with the neighbours of Ingrams and it was a very intense and very hopeless affair. But Isabelle had gone back to France and married some count or other and soon started having children. It took a long, agonising year to forget her—or if not her, the feeling they shared and Bianca swore to herself: never again. Marry a man rich enough to live comfortably for the rest of the days, was her aim. And if he should have mistresses, even better, for then she would have hers too.  
It could have been a different way, if she only had her own money. If she could live her dream of a rich, eccentric old maid, with female companions. But it was not to be, for everything belonged to Teddy, with little left for her and Mary. She didn’t begrudge him that, it wasn’t his fault. It was the world that was wrong. Wrong for women and especially women like her.  
Still, she resisted marriage as long as she could. But at twenty-five, time was running out.  
The little games she played with Edward Rochester amused her at first. “He’ll do,” she concluded when they were introduced to each other. Lady Ingram took pleasure in matching them right away. Bianca let her. Him or another, what difference did it make?  
Then she met Antoinette.  
Now the marriage to Rochester became vital. She needed it more than ever and she hated herself for it. Oh, what a miserable existence it is to depend upon a man!  
“I want to marry Edward, so that I can be with Antoinette.”  
Teddy was the only one that knew.  
But today, he was doubtful. “Are you sure? You still don’t know who she is.”  
Bianca thought to herself, no, brother, it’s you who doesn’t know. I DO know.  
“What of it?” Bianca, shrugged. “Once we are wed and I am the mistress of Thornfield Hall, he will have to tell me the truth—or I will tell him I know about his secret in the attic. I will then move her to one of the big rooms—we shall have the west wing, I’m thinking. Yes. Edward will have to concede, or else I’ll tell the whole world he kept her in the attic for ten years. We will plant the garden and ride horses and one day travel to West Indies. I shall buy a small cottage for Grace Poole and she can sew for us if she wants. Oh Teddy, I have plans!”  
Teddy changed the topic. “I couldn’t get anything from Dr Carter.”  
“Oh?”  
“I went there in disguise of a merchant, just as you suggested. He flatly denied knowing anyone called Richard Mason. Dr Carter is Rochester’s man, through and through.”  
“Well, that’s good to know, at least.”  
“I think Mason is probably on his way back to West Indies.”  
“I will have Patterson make some enquiries,” Bianca decided. Patterson was their butler in Ingram Park. A butler of many skills.  
“You don’t look too happy, brother.”  
“I am worried. About you. I don’t trust Rochester.”  
“Well, neither do I, but if not for him I would not have met Antoinette.”  
Teddy said no more and retired to bed.  
Quarter to ten.  
Six nights they had, six nights of conversations and gazing in each other’s eyes and holding hands. And last night…  
_What would happen if I kissed you, Bianca?_  
Try it, Bianca said. And she did.  
Bianca never thought it was possible to be kissed like that. Not in her wildest dreams.  
She touched her lips. _Antoinette_ …  
“I will get you out of this room. If I have to kill Edward and feed the corpse to his dog, I will get you out of here.”  
“Please be careful… don’t let him hurt you… like he did me…”  
“He won’t dare.”  
But tonight her confidence faltered. There was a little prick of doubt. _What if he doesn’t ask me?_  
She was being stupid, of course he would ask her. Everybody knew it, everybody expected it.  
“I suppose you will have frequent parties at Thornfield once you live here, Miss Ingram,” Lady Lynn remarked this afternoon.  
Edward will ask her, must ask her.  
Ten minutes to ten.  
What if he doesn’t?  
What a cruel twist of fate. She, who had scorned men and marriage ever since she came of age was now desperate for a man to propose to her. An ugly man, who had mistresses all over the Continent, a man who dressed up as an old gypsy woman and appeared to tease the governess.  
That was it.  
The governess.  
The governess was the little prick of doubt.  
That morning the governess left Thornfield Hall, to visit a dying aunt. And all at once, Rochester stopped paying attention to Bianca. No more “my dear Bianca” and singing songs, no more courting.  
Not that the plain Jane mattered. The orphan child Rochester took in will be sent to school and thus the governess will be dismissed. Bianca will find her a good placement, she’ll even write big shiny references for her if that is what it will take to get rid of her. Didn’t Lady Lynn mention a sister that was married to a lord somewhere in Northumberland, who was in sore need of a governess? Such unruly children, she said. Yes, that will do. And she’d earn more money there. Tomorrow she’ll ask Lady Lynn.  
Sure, plain Jane was making eyes at Rochester, but that was governesses for you. Every single governess in the employ of the Ingrams had made the same eyes at her late father. Poor Papa couldn’t always resist. Bianca shook her head. Plain Jane would soon redirect those eyes on her new employer.  
_What if he doesn’t ask me?_  
Still that fear.  
Curse it all. If Rochester won’t speak, she will marry somebody else. There was no shortage of wealthy suitors, with her beauty and grace. Then she will come back here and get Antoinette out. One way or another, she will get her out. Teddy and Grace Poole will help. And she will tell her new husband that Antoinette is her companion. A distant relation from Italy who was left hard up by a never-do-well husband. Or whatever else, she will make something up by then.  
_Whatever it takes to save you, Antoinette_.  
One minute to ten.  
Bianca slipped out of the room to meet with her new lover.


	9. Chapter 9

Grace Poole

On the seventh night, I waited for Miss Ingram in the outer room.   
She greeted me with her usual cordial “Good evening, Grace.”  
“Good evening, Miss Ingram. If you permit me—“  
“What is it, Grace?”  
“My conscience will not allow me to continue with this any longer.”  
“You are loyal to your employer. I understand that, Grace. We can find some other way.”  
“It’s not that, Miss. It’s that I think it’s right time you knew the truth. About my mistress.”  
She gave me a little smile. “So you think so now?”  
“Yes, Miss. It’s clear to me that—” I stopped. I didn’t know how to say it.  
“That what?”  
“That you… care about her, Miss.”  
“That I do, Grace. I care about her very much.”  
“And she cares about you too.”  
“Does she?”  
“Yes, I can tell. I have known the lady for ten years. She has changed since she met you. She is happier.”  
“Is she? Well, I’m happier too.”  
“And that is why it pains me to see you not knowing that—not knowing about her. Things you—should know.” I felt I was babbling nonsensically. Miss Ingram was no fool, she must have guessed most of the truth by now. But I needed her to know the whole truth.  
“My dear Grace, I am much grateful to you for this. But your conscience need not be troubled. I know the truth about Antoinette.”  
“You do?”  
“She is Edward Rochester’s wife.”  
“She told you?”  
“Yes, though I had already gathered as much myself.”  
“Was it so obvious?”  
“Not at first. Although now that I think about it… it was.”  
“Yes, I suppose I gave a lot away.”  
“It was enough when you told me she was married. My first thought was, the husband was Richard Mason. But it didn’t make sense. Why would Edward keep someone else’s wife in his house, even if she was a relation? I asked you if Antoinette’s husband was a scoundrel, you didn’t answer. I said it was barbaric to keep a person locked in an attic room for ten years and your response was ‘I am paid well’. So I realised, it was the other way round. Mr Mason was the relation and Mr Rochester the husband.”  
“I see your reasoning. Any secret wife Mr Rochester would keep in his house could only have been his own.”  
“And your loyalty is to Mr Rochester, not to Mr Mason. Grace, I need you to know that you didn’t fail in your responsibilities. Once Teddy discovered the hidden door, there was no way you could keep it from us. I assure you, nobody suspects anything. Teddy can keep a secret. He’s known about me… for a long time.”  
“Does your brother know the truth about my mistress’s identity?”  
“Not yet. I’m waiting for Antoinette to tell me when she’s ready for him to know. Tell me something, Grace. Do you believe that your mistress is mad?”  
“I am but a carer, not a medical expert, Miss Ingram.”  
“Never mind medical experts. What is your personal opinion?”  
“I don’t think she is any madder than you or me. At least, she wasn’t before she came here. Even now she isn’t, when the master’s not at home and the house is quiet. One can’t expect her mind to be undamaged after a decade of being locked in here. In the end, she is a woman trapped in an unhappy marriage. Any behaviour of hers that is—questionable—stems from her unhappiness.”  
“Such as attacking her brother with a knife?”  
“Yes. But you must know, she had been having very difficult time—she had never been violent towards Mr Mason before.”  
“I know. That is why she was so sorry afterwards. You see, Grace? A woman wouldn’t be that sorry for attacking her husband but a brother is a different matter. My mother had slapped my father numerous times—usually when she caught him with a governess—but she had never slapped her brother.” She smiled. “She and Uncle Cesare are as different as sun and moon but they are very fond of each other.”  
“Miss Ingram, I am very relieved to hear all of this.”  
“Of course you are.” She looked like she remembered something. “You probably know that Teddy was bluffing the first day, when he said your housekeeper knows nothing of the hidden woman. I doubt he’s ever even noticed what your housekeeper looks like, much less spoken to her.”  
I smiled. “I do. A clever trick to get information out of me. As it is, Mrs Fairfax knows no more than the other servants. A mad relation, possibly a bastard sister, the same story.”  
Miss Bianca nodded. “Yes, my maid Ellie tells me so. Edward gets praise for not sending her to an asylum, where she would be subject to horrible treatment.”  
“Not in our retreat,” I reminded her. “We are Quakers.”  
“Let them live in their fantasy, I say, it suits us well. But let’s go in, I don’t want her to be waiting. She’s had enough of that.”  
We entered. My mistress was fixing her hair in front of the window. “Bianca, you’re late tonight.”  
“I’ve been talking to Grace behind the door.”  
The two women embraced and kissed each other on the cheek.  
“She knows that I know about you.”  
“Then I can ask, Grace; where is Richard now?”  
“He should be on his way back to Jamaica, as far I know, ma’am.”  
“Oh, if only I could tell him how sorry I am!” my mistress covered her face with her hands.   
“I’m sure he knows,” Miss Ingram said.  
“He does, ma’am. I saw it on his face that night.”  
“What doesn’t kill you,” murmured Miss Ingram. “We can write him a note, with luck it will reach him in time.”  
“If you permit me, Miss,” I said.   
“Yes, Grace?”  
“What will happen now? It is not possible for you to marry my master.”  
“But marry him I will. Are you shocked, Grace?”  
“I wouldn’t like to see you take part in bigamy.”  
“No bigamy for me, Grace. The marriage will be but a sham. I will tell him I know all about his wife in the attic and if he wants me to keep quiet, he will have to keep the pretence of our marriage and free Antoinette. We will make some arrangements when it comes to that. I will make provisions for you.”  
“Thank you, ma’am.”  
I left them, feeling, for the first time in many, many years, like a burden had fallen from my shoulders. I settled in the outer room and slept till the early hours of the morning.


	10. Chapter 10

Bianca

She was dancing instead of walking.  
She was singing instead of talking.  
She smiled twenty-four hours of the day. She charmed everyone who came in her way.  
“She’s glowing,” commented the guests at Thornfield Hall.   
“No doubt it’s Mr Rochester,” said Mrs Eshton.   
No, it’s his wife, thought Bianca and laughed.

“Am I worthy of such love?”  
“You are, you are… it’s me that’s not worthy of you…”  
“He said I wasn’t… he always told me that… He calls me a monster, a demon…”  
“He calls you that because you remind him of what he is… and what he did to you…”  
“I started believing it myself… maybe I really was perverse… imbecile… oh, the things he called me, Bianca!”  
“You are out of this world, Antoinette… he is so below you, he despises himself for it. Now stop talking and kiss me again.”

“He drugged me… I didn’t know. He gave me a glass of wine to drink. He said we need to bury the hatchet… we used to argue so much they heard us all over the neighbourhood… but that day he said he wanted to make peace. Let’s be husband and wife, he said. What a fool I was to believe him!”  
“You couldn’t have known. Edward is a master liar.”  
“I drank the wine and the next thing I remember is waking up on a ship. He kept me locked in the cabin. When I screamed and banged the door, he brought two attendants… he told them I was mad and they tied me with restraints…”  
“He will pay for this, for all of this.”  
“By the time we arrived to England, I was so broken I lost the will to live. He put me in this room… no one has spoken to me since then, apart from him and Grace. Until you… you looked at me as if I wasn’t a beast…”  
“Because you aren’t. You are beautiful, Antoinette… you have endured so much, you are strong.”  
“Please keep saying my name… he calls me Bertha. I hate that name, always have…”  
“Antoinette… my Antoinette.”

Grace Poole

I was the only witness of their love.  
For love it was, a true and a pure one. I refused to believe that anything so pure and true and sincere could be a sin. 

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails." ~ 1 Corinthians 13:4-8

They didn’t envy, didn’t boast, nor did they dishonour others. They didn’t delight in evil. They met in secret, because there was no other way for them to meet. Once they knew the truth of each other, they rejoiced. Miss Ingram protected my mistress, my mistress trusted Miss Ingram. Miss Ingram was proud, that couldn’t be denied, but not when she was with my mistress. They persevered.   
So if this was love, how was it a sin?


	11. Chapter 11

Bianca

Teddy wasn’t overly surprised when he heard the truth.   
“He wouldn’t be such a miserable sod if she was a half-sister or a second cousin twice removed or whatnot. It had to be a wife.”  
“Really, Teddy!”  
“Does it take being a college professor? We know he returned from the West Indies ten years ago. He told us so himself. Isn’t that how long Antoinette’s been locked in the attic?”  
“It is.”  
“They married in Jamaica, then? Was it a business transaction?”  
“She came with a large sum of money.”  
“You’d think he wasn’t in need of that.”  
“He was the younger son.”  
“But the Rochester estate is not entailed, or is it?”  
“It isn’t. His father just didn’t want to split the property. Neither did he want his son to be poor. So he had to seek a rich bride for him and found one in the form of Antoinette.”  
“And then both the father and older brother died, thus…”  
“Edward Rochester woke up one morning a rich man with a wife that was inconvenient for him.”  
“So he brought her to Thornfield Hall and locked her in the attic?” Teddy shook his head. “If I married a woman and then discovered she was like you… I would work something out, not lock her in the house. I don’t know… I don’t think it would ever occur to me to imprison someone in my own home! I mean… half the folk we’re acquainted with practice extra-marital activities.”  
“That’s just it, she’s not entirely like me… She accepted Edward.”  
“So he’s just cruel, then, is that what it is?” Teddy remembered something. “So who’s that Richard Mason fellow?”  
“Her brother.”  
“Why doesn’t he help her?”  
“That we don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t know how or lacks courage.”  
“What do you want to do now? This party will come to an end one day…”  
“I still plan to marry Edward. As a pretence, of course. For Antoinette.”  
“I’m not sure about this, Bianca.”  
“I love her, Teddy.”  
“I know you do. But I just don’t trust Rochester.”  
“You don’t think I can handle him?”  
“This is not a game, Bianca. He’s dangerous. I wish—I wish there was another way for the two of you, I really do.”  
“What other way is there?”  
“Not being at Rochester’s mercy would be a start.”  
“Easy for you to say that.”  
“I know they can’t get a divorce when she’s certified insane, but…”  
“She’s not insane,” Bianca interrupted him mechanically.   
“I know. I wonder… could I sneak upstairs with you one night and meet her so I can get to know her better?”

And he did.   
Grace stayed in the outer room.  
At first he was cautious around her, afraid of scaring her and at the same time afraid it would make her feel like he thought her mad. But she put him at ease. “Don’t stand there like a pillar. Go and sit in that chair there and let’s talk.”  
So they conversed. About horses and gardens and books and cricket, which Antoinette said her brother Richard liked playing.   
“So do I,” Teddy said.

“She doesn’t look insane to me,” Teddy concluded after they returned to Bianca’s bedchamber that night. “Not that I ever met an insane person, at least not that I know of…”  
“You see? I wish I could ask a doctor to see her, someone I could trust…”  
“Wait.” Teddy remembered something. “Dr Foster.”  
“What about him?”  
“I was once at the Pennings’ when he was visiting too and he and the old man talked about mental illnesses. It seems Dr Foster interests himself in that field. I wasn’t listening, I was playing chess with Roger, but the point is, he knows this stuff.”  
“That’s something to keep in mind. We’ll see.”


	12. Chapter 12

Grace Poole

Alas, it was a sin after all.  
I heard the Lynns had left Thornfield, but I didn’t think anything of it. Sir George probably had to go back to town to take up his seat. But then, from the window of the staircase landing, I saw Colonel Dent’s valet carrying trunks. Was the party dispersing?  
I meant to ask Leah in the servants’ hall, but as soon as I walked in, I saw the question was pointless.  
The party was dispersing.  
“Are all of them leaving?” I asked Leah.  
“All of them.”  
“Even the Ingrams?”  
“The Ingrams too, though not till tomorrow morning.” Leah looked at me in understanding. “I didn’t expect the Ingrams of all to leave… I don’t know what happened.”  
I felt as if a cold hand touched my heart. No, no, no, no…

I did my best masking my anxiety but like I said, she had an instinct. She knew.  
That night, Miss Ingram came upstairs with her eyes full of tears. I waited for her in the outer room. “All is lost, Grace,” she told me. “We’re leaving in the morning. Mother says I mustn’t marry him, she discovered he's not as rich as we thought he was.”  
This confused me—I knew Mr Rochester was rich—but there was no time for that.  
“But surely, Miss… there must be a way.”  
“There must be and I will find it. But now I have to say goodbye!” she opened the door of my mistress’ room.  
_Tired, so tired_ …  
I laid down on the bed in which Mr Mason was nursed by Jane Eyre and fell asleep.  
I woke up a little after five in the morning. Miss Ingram came out of the inner room. “Goodbye, Grace,” she said drily. “Thank you for everything and all the best to you.”  
And she was gone.

Bianca

Human beings never enjoy complete happiness in this world.  
“Have I not always told you that no good can come from love?” mother repeated for the hundredth time. “Imagine him deceiving us like this!”  
“Leave it, mother, he’s not worth it.”  
“Edward Fairfax Rochester! For such an ugly man he really does have some insolence. The master of Thornfield Hall! That estate will be nothing but a ruin before he turns fifty. What idea has he to sustain it on such a low income?”  
“Mother, please.”  
“It’s for the best that I found out. Imagine you had already been married. It was some luck, it was.”  
Luck! How can anyone call what happened luck?  
“If you only weren’t so foolish as to fall in love. What do you see in a specimen so unpleasant?”  
“Nothing, mother. Please, stop talking about it. I don’t want to hear anything about Rochester ever again.”  
“My sweet child!” Lady Ingram stroke her cheek. “How you suffer. But all shall be well and one day you will but laugh at your foolishness. Let me see, the summer has not started yet. I think a month in Rosalie’s Spanish villa will do us good. Yes, I will write to her at once. Now dry your eyes, darling, I promise I will never mention Edward Fairfax Rochester again.”  
And, let it be stated here that, Lady Ingram kept her word.


	13. Chapter 13

Grace Poole

It was back to the old way.  
First she stopped talking and hummed to herself while staring at the walls. Then came the crying and wailing. But this time, it was ever more heart-wrenching.  
What could I do? “Cry, Antoinette,” I said. “Let it all out.”  
Her hair was unkempt again. Nails broken. Fingers bitten. She started scratching the walls. Crawling on all fours. Her face turned that awful sick colour again.  
She repeated Miss Ingram’s name over and over. It was the only word she spoke. “Bianca!”  
Two or three weeks passed, when she collapsed on the floor by the bed, exhausted. She retreated into the same unpredictability she was in at the time of her brother’s visit. She could turn from stillness to rage within a second.  
One day I received a letter from Miss Ingram, posted from a shipping office in London. She was in southern Spain, staying at her mother’s friend’s villa. _I am still working on getting her out. Please tell her that I love her more than anything else in this world._  
I put the letter at the bottom of my sewing and told my mistress nothing. It had been a month since the Ingrams left. I did not believe Miss Ingram would last long. She would soon tire of the madwoman in the attic, she would perhaps find someone else, someone more accessible, for whom she didn’t have to jump through hurdles to see. But the thought of her would torment my mistress for the rest of her life—however many years she had remaining.  
Maybe it would be better for her to die.  
Lord forgive me for such wicked thoughts.  
I opened the bottom door of the cabinet and took out the bottle of gin.

One evening I was sitting in my chair, sewing, when I heard it again. That laugh.  
It came from the heap in the far corner.  
“So, I guess that means the governess is back in Thornfield,” I said.  
My mistress laughed again.  
It was so. Jane Eyre returned from her leave.  
Often I contemplated taking her aside after her lessons with little Adele and telling her everything. She, of all the staff in Thornfield, was the only one that didn’t know what my duties were. Master’s orders were strict on that. But I thought she was the only one I could talk to. She seemed so alone. Just like me.  
She still regarded me suspiciously when she passed me in the corridors. The dear child thought me a monster. “If you only knew,” I said to myself, “that it is that master of yours, with whom you are so much enamoured, who is the true monster.”  
I admonished myself for this. Bianca Ingram had poisoned my mind, Miss Eyre was not in love with Mr Rochester.  
But, you understand, it looked that way. It certainly looked that way.  
Or maybe it looked that way to my wicked eyes.

On Midsummer eve, there was a storm.  
The sound of thunder startled me from my gin-induced slumber in my chair. How menacing it was!  
“You hear that, Grace?”  
Her voice was hoarse. “You hear that beautiful noise! How I wish I was a storm! Would that I was a lightning—I would struck the walls of this awful house and turn it into ashes!”  
I said nothing. But each time the thunder struck, she laughed that horrible evil laugh. And laughed…

The next morning, the grounds of Thornfield looked clean and fresh. The rain did us good—it had been much too hot the previous week. Even my mistress looked a bit calmer.  
I went down to the kitchen to get breakfast for both of us. That was where I heard the news.  
“The master will marry Miss Eyre, what do you say to that, Mrs Poole?”  
I held onto a counter. “Will he? Now that is a surprise.”  
“Miss Eyre will be the mistress of Thornfield!” Leah was excited.  
I looked at Mrs Fairfax. She was visibly not excited.  
“I have to tell John and his wife right now!” Leah ran out.  
Mrs Fairfax and I exchanged a look. “Is he serious about this?” I asked.  
“It seems so.”  
“When is the—wedding to take place?”  
“In a month’s time, he said.”  
“The master and the governess,” I said absent-mindedly. Miss Ingram was right. “But she is so young.”  
“I must warn her,” Mrs Fairfax left the kitchen.  
What must you warn her about, I wondered.  
The wife in the attic?  
I was going hysterical.  
I took the tray and the pot of coffee and walked upstairs.

It was no jest. The wedding between Mr Rochester and Miss Jane Eyre was to take place at the end of July. Mr Rochester caught me in the servants’ hall one evening and took me to the library to talk to me. He said he would increase my wages and I needed to be even more careful and keep the doors locked at all times. He said he would install a new lock on the door to the attic. “In time, I will move both your mistress and you to my estate in Ferndean. I would move you now, but the place is in need of repairs. I will hire more staff for this.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
How long did he mean to be getting away with it?

Should I tell my mistress or should I not tell my mistress? Minutes, hours, days I spent agonising over this matter but she knew anyway. Of course she knew.  
I thought it would be a good idea to post a message to Miss Ingram, so I went to Leeds, ostensibly to deposit my wage in the bank, and I sent a letter to the shipping office in London. She would hear about the marriage anyhow.  
It wasn’t till I got back to Thornfield that I realised I left the keys at home. When I entered our room, she was sitting on the bed, the keys on the top of the cabinet. “Guess what, Grace,” she said in almost a sing-song voice. “Wedding bells are ringing! Ding-ding-dong!”  
“Indeed?” I said. I sat down and took up my sewing.  
Then she spoke no more.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bianca pines for her love and comes out to her sister.

Bianca

Spain…  
The villa was beautiful, so was the coast. Rosalie was by far the most pleasant hostess Bianca had ever encountered. They had company and feasts almost every night. It was very hot—Bianca wondered if this is how it was in Jamaica, or was it even hotter?  
She settled in the villa as if she lived there all her life. It was back to playing games and pretending to be charmed by men. _I am doing this for you, Antoinette_. At night, in the dark, when she was on her own, was the only time she allowed her face to show true emotion. She hugged the pillows. _Antoinette_ …  
There were two or three suitors that would be worth considering. Mother favoured Lord Charles Harlington, owner of a large estate in Hampshire. A few years younger than Rochester and much better looking, he was tall and strong, with fair hair and grey eyes. He was very amiable and well educated.  
“How come he hasn’t been married yet?” Bianca wanted to know.  
“But he has, darling, he is a widower,” Lady Ingram said. “His wife died very young. He doesn’t like talking about it, but I got it out of him in no time.”  
I bet you did, thought Bianca.  
“They had no children,” Lady Ingram added quickly.  
The previous night, they sang together while Bianca played piano.  
_He’ll do._  
The point in his favour was that his Hampshire estate was far from Thornfield Hall and Rochester’s reach. Antoinette will be safe there. It was close to the sea, which will do her good. The lord was said to have the best horses in the county and his gardens were admired from afar. He also had an enormous library full of books of every genre. “Truly the best match,” Bianca established. If she had to marry, it should at least be somebody she can stand.  
They spent the afternoon discussing books and songs and he genuinely made her laugh.  
Before dinner, Bianca went out to the garden. The roses here were beautiful. She imagined what the blood red rose would look like in Antoinette’s hair.  
She was feeling disconcerted and missed her brother badly. Teddy had to stay back at Ingram Park to sort out some estate matters. She could write him a letter, for sure, but what was she going to put on paper when she couldn’t tell what was wrong?  
Now she was stroking the roses in the garden of the villa, wishing Lord Harlington would come join her and ask the question, so she could say yes and it would be over and done with. _Why do I have to wait so long for everything?_  
“They’re exceptionally beautiful,” a voice behind her said. Not the lord. It was a woman’s voice. Her sister Mary.  
“They are, aren’t they?” Bianca’s eyes narrowed. “Is something the matter, Mary?”  
Mary’s face was sad.  
“No, I’m just tired. The heat is exhausting.”  
“Really? I love it. I wouldn’t mind living in a place like this all year long.” _Or maybe West Indies_.  
“Are you going to marry Lord Harlington?”  
“I don’t know. Nothing is settled. Why?”  
“Mother was saying—“  
“You know what she’s like. A month ago she said that same about her son-in-law Edward Rochester.”  
“You had a lucky escape from that. Did you hear he is marrying the governess?”  
“Yes, the plain Jane girl.”  
Bianca had it from two sources. One was Amy Eshton. The other, Grace Poole.  
“She is really named Jane, you know?”  
“Is she? I never paid attention to what her name was.”  
“I suppose to her he’s still a wealthy man.”  
“I suppose he is.”  
“I hope you’re not… hurt by this news.”  
“Me? Oh, my dear Mary, I couldn’t care less about Edward Fairfax Rochester. Let him and his governess be happy forever and ever.”  
_All I care about is getting Antoinette out of there_.  
Will he then put plain Jane in the attic in her place?  
And what if he does?  
“Oh, thank god. I was afraid you’d be upset.”  
“I’m not. But let’s go back in the house, the dinner will be served shortly.”  
At dinner, Bianca secretly entertained herself at the thought of her mother itching to discuss Rochester’s approaching wedding, but having to avoid the subject owing to the promise. No doubt Lady Ingram would have a lot to say about that match.  
Bianca made some remark about the roses, which prompted Mary to ask Lord Harlington about his gardens. The subject thus stayed safely on his Hampshire mansion.  
Bianca kept quiet for the rest of the meal.  
That night, as she was preparing to go to bed, Mary came to her room. “I—I wanted to talk to you about something.”  
Bianca shut the door, took her sister’s hands into hers and led her to the bed. “I knew something was wrong. Now go on, tell me all about it.”  
“It concerns Lord Harlington.”  
“Yes. You wish to marry him yourself.”  
“How did you—” Mary raised her hands to her face.  
“I saw it at dinner.”  
“He makes me feel like no one else in the world. He so strong, yet so gentle. I didn’t know men like that existed. Oh, how I have been torturing myself these past few days!”  
“There’s no need for that. If I’m not wrong, he cares about you too.”  
“Does he? Oh Bianca!”  
“He was looking right at you when he was talking about his estate. As if he wished you were the mistress of his house. Mother has been trying to play matchmaker so hard, she didn’t realise she picked the wrong daughter. The lord is in an awkward position. He doesn’t want to offend anyone but can’t help how he feels. He is a good man. He really is.”  
So that was what was wrong.  
Lord Harlington was a good man. It didn’t feel right to deceive him, to marry him only to be with Antoinette. And—he didn’t look like the type who had mistresses.  
“But, what about you?”  
“What about me? You don’t worry about me, dearest Mary of all the Marys that ever lived.”  
“But… first Rochester and now this… I don’t want the world to think that all men reject you.”  
Bianca stood up and walked to the window. “There is something you should know about me. Something you should have known for some time.” There was a moment of silence before she spoke again. “I don’t feel about men the way you—or most women—feel about men. I never have. The thought of being with a man repulses me.”  
“But… maybe you just have not met a man that would… make you feel… not repulsed?”  
Bianca smiled. “Trust me, it’s not that. There is someone I want to be with and it’s not a man.”  
“What then?” Mary giggled. “A woman?”  
Bianca nodded.  
Mary’s face went white. “But that is—“  
“I know, a sin. Abomination. Seven ways to hell. Whatever you call it. But that is how I am and that is how I’ve always been. Do you remember Isabelle?”  
“The French girl that stayed with the Pennings that one summer? You used to be great friends—oh!”  
“Yes.”  
“But Bianca—you can’t be with a woman!”  
“Why not?”  
“Well, two women can’t have children and…”  
“I never really cared about children.”  
“No, that’s true, I don’t think you ever did.”  
Mary started pacing the room. “Have you always been this way?”  
“Yes.”  
“Was Isabelle like that?”  
“Yes.”  
“I don’t understand how that can be. She married, didn’t she?”  
“I guess she didn’t mind.”  
“Mother doesn’t know about this?”  
“No. But Teddy’s known about it for a long time. It’s time for you to know too.”  
Mary stopped in the middle of the room. “I don’t know what to say—what to think.”  
“It’s alright, Mary.” Bianca sighed. “It needs some getting used to.”  
Mary sat down. Silence settled on the room, both sisters deep in their thoughts. Then—Mary, on impulse, ran to Bianca and hugged her. “You’re still my sister and I still love you, even if I don’t understand any of this.”  
“My dear Mary, I will always be your sister and you will always be mine and I will always love you. And if Lord Harlington even thinks about hurting you, I will break his bones!” she laughed.  
“But nothing is decided yet.”  
“It will be soon. By the end of the week, I wager.”  
“Oh Bianca, you really say such strange things. But who is this woman that you want to be with? Do I know her? Do tell!”  
And she did.


	15. Chapter 15

Grace Poole

It was worse than I thought. Miss Eyre, throughout their engagement, insisted on carrying on with her duties as governess as usual. Mrs Fairfax told me Jane demanded no special treatment and refused any expensive jewels he bought for her.  
“I had a little conversation with her the morning after they got engaged,” Mrs Fairfax said. “I advised her to keep her distance from Mr Rochester. You know what men are like, Mrs Poole, I’m sure, and a young governess like her… Gentlemen in his station are not accustomed to marry their governesses.”  
“It seems that did her good, Mrs Fairfax.”  
That pure, sweet, kind, hard working girl was heading for the greatest tragedy of her life and I did nothing to stop it.  
I could do nothing to stop it.  
All I could do was to pour myself another glass of gin.

She stole the keys again.  
It was two days before the wedding and I had drunk too much gin. I sat in my chair, my head slumped. She took the bunch out of my pocket and let herself out.  
She banged the door upon her return. I sprang up. “What—where? Is that you, Mrs Antoinette? What have you been doing?”  
She threw the bunch of keys on the floor and laughed her mad laugh. She started to dance around the room, her skirt swirling, laughing like a madwoman.  
“What have you done?”  
“Oh, Grace, why so serious? There is to be a wedding. We shall celebrate!” she swirled more.  
“Where have you been, ma’am?” My voice was harsh, determined.  
“Shh, Grace, not so loud, the bride is asleep.”  
I put my hands on her shoulders and shook her. “What have you done to Miss Eyre?”  
I told that girl to keep her door bolted, I told her!  
“Sshh, she is sleeping, dreaming sweet dreams of her groom. Or maybe nightmares, ha-ha-ha!”  
That laugh again.  
I pushed her onto the bed. “What have you done to her?!”  
She laughed and laughed and laughed. I slapped her on the face.  
She broke into tears.  
“Nothing, I have done nothing, Grace, I only tried the veil on.”  
“You took her veil?”  
“I only wanted to try it on. It’s been a long time since I was a bride.”  
“Where is the veil?”  
“It’s in her room. I haven’t taken it, I’m telling you, I only wanted to try it on. I looked at myself in the mirror.”  
Then she cried. And cried, until she fell asleep.  
I covered her with blanket. You are mad, I thought, but no wonder.  
Maybe I was mad too.  
Maybe we all are a little bit mad.

They came in the morning, the five of them. The clergyman Mr Wood, a solicitor from London by name of Briggs, Mr Richard Mason, Mr Rochester and, at last, the bride, Miss Jane Eyre.  
I rose that morning and carried out my usual chores with strange calmness. Thy will be done, I repeated in my mind several times. My mistress sat on the floor in the far corner of the room and hummed quietly. I knew her mood could turn at any time and for the worse. But I stayed calm. _Thy will be done_. I was confident she would never be violent towards me and I vowed to protect her at all costs.  
There was no wedding.  
At around half-past eight I heard their footsteps on the stairs.  
We looked at each other and knew.  
The door opened.  
“Good morrow, Mrs Poole. How are you? And how is your charge today?”  
The master appeared jovial, as if he was playing a game.  
I murmured something about her being snappish but not outrageous (I knew it wasn’t _my_ well-being he wanted to know about). I warned him to take care—they all heard me so nobody can say I didn’t.  
Then he said: “I suppose she has no knife now?”  
That angered me. He knew perfectly well that the attack on her brother was the only time she ever picked up a knife. He knew that knife was hidden in the room for years, without her touching it. Oh, so you want a little entertainment for your guests, I thought. Very well then, I’ll give you entertainment. (Though I did feel guilty and apologised to Mr Mason afterwards.)  
“One never knows what she has, sir,” I said, “she is so cunning: it is not in mortal discretion to fathom her craft.”  
My mistress, true to my description, flew at her husband in rage and clawed at his throat. Get him, Antoinette, I thought, get him.  
I watched Miss Eyre’s face. The poor thing looked petrified; what must it have been like for her? She was so—so innocent. And I admired her for keeping her dignity, I did, for such a young person, but at the same time, there was, at the back of my mind, a thought I couldn’t push away. _You don’t have to look so offended by the sight of a Creole_.  
We had to tie my mistress to a chair—the rage was real, she wasn’t only acting it—but as soon as the door closed behind them, I untied her.  
“Well wasn’t that quite a performance,” I said.  
I was surprised at my own words. “How stunned the faces of the English gentlemen were!” And I laughed.  
I don’t know why I laughed. The whole incident was so absurd.  
Then my mistress laughed. Not the evil laugh, a normal, healthy laugh.  
And we laughed together.  
“At least I didn’t attack Richard this time,” she said. “But did you see the face of that clergyman, Grace? He looked as if he saw the devil!”  
_Serves him right_. Mr Wood didn’t like Quakers.  
And we laughed and laughed and laughed.  
That evening, I snuck a bottle of wine upstairs and we drank to that.

The next day the whole house shook with the cries of “Jane! JAAAAAANE!!!”  
The bride ran away. The day after the wedding that never was, early in the morning, the governess took few possessions she had and without a word, walked out of Thornfield Hall.  
We knew she didn’t just “go for a walk to clear her head”, as the master was hoping in vain. We knew she wasn’t coming back. All of us in servants’ hall knew it.  
What else was there for her to do?  
“The master would have her installed in his villa in the south of France,” said Mrs Fairfax, “and live there as his mistress. But of course, Miss Eyre is not the type of girl to ever accept that.”  
How could Mr Rochester believe she would agree to that arrangement? Even I knew she wouldn’t. Maybe he didn’t know her as well as he thought he did.  
Strangely enough, this was the kind of arrangement Miss Ingram would have accepted, as long as she could live there with my mistress.  
I had never seen the good Mrs Fairfax lose her calm. She was both disgusted and disappointed. “I knew something was up in the attic, but never suspected it was a wife! Married all this time! To think I wanted him to marry Miss Bianca Ingram… I wish you had told me, Mrs Poole. A lot of unpleasantness could have been prevented. And that girl wouldn’t have just walked out to nowhere.”  
“I had my orders, Mrs Fairfax.”  
“Oh, I know, I know. But how will Miss Eyre fare out there, alone?”  
I told Mrs Fairfax that Miss Eyre had a rich uncle, the existence of whom she had not been aware of till recently.  
“Indeed?”  
“Mr Mason told me. He lives on some island, I forgot which.”  
The housekeeper shook her head. “He won’t be any good to her if she gets herself killed!”  
I shrugged my shoulders. I already had one person to worry about.  
My own hopes were dashed. I was looking forward to some peace and quiet once the happy couple left for their honeymoon. My mistress would get better with him not around. I even toyed with an idea of contacting Miss Ingram to try to smuggle her inside to meet Antoinette. But that was out of the question now. I hoped that, after our candid conversation in the outer room later that morning, at least Mr Richard Mason would stick around, but the brother disappeared again, without any means of contact.  
My mistress was the only tranquil inhabitant of Thornfield Hall. “It’s been a nice summer, Grace, hasn’t it?” she said.  
“Yes, ma’am.” And what does it matter to you, who never goes out.  
She made a sudden movement. “He’s coming here, Grace.”  
A minute later, the door opened and Mr Rochester entered the room. “You!” he pointed at my mistress. “You vile, abominable creature! The devil take you!”  
“Oh hello Edward,” she said with a smirk. “What happened, dear, your little friend left you?”  
She laughed her mad laugh and kept laughing, while her husband piled abuse at her. I sat in my chair calmly, sewing a dress for my niece Hannah and let them vent at each other.  
At least there was no violence this time.

One beautiful sunny day in August, the good Mrs Fairfax left Thornfield Hall.  
She wasn’t taking up another post—she was going to her friends somewhere down south. Mr Rochester settled an annuity on her. It was for the best and she deserved it, but I didn’t expect to miss her as much as I did. I suppose she was a sort of a powerhouse of Thornfield, always here, when the master used to be away so much.  
The little girl Adele was sent away to school and her nursemaid Sophie returned to France to start a new placement.  
I was glad the child was gone from Thornfield, spared from what followed.  
The master shut the house from the rest of the world and broke off all the contact with the gentry he used to be friends with. At nights, he would walk the grounds, calling out Miss Eyre’s name.  
“You know what I think, Grace,” my mistress said one night, when we could hear his howling all the way up in our room, “I think he is quite mad.”  
I didn’t argue. I took out my bottle of gin and drank.


	16. Chapter 16

Bianca

Mary’s wedding to Lord Harlington was set for early September.  
They returned to Ingram Park for the preparations. Bianca took part in these with enthusiasm. Her sister was happy and she was happy for her sister. Lady Ingram enjoyed herself so much she forgot to worry about her older daughter’s marriage prospects.  
Then came the inevitable news of Rochester’s secret mad wife in the attic, the cancelled wedding to his former governess and the bride that ran away.  
Bianca couldn’t deprive her mother of the joy this scandal would bring her. So that afternoon, when they were sitting in the drawing room, she told her (predicting she would regret it later): “There is no need to keep your promise anymore, mama. You are free to discuss Edward Rochester as much as you like.”  
Lady Ingram tossed her head in satisfaction. “I declare it’s good that I got you away from him in time. Such a scandal was never heard of in whole of England and, I daresay, in Italy either. A maniac wife in the attic!”  
_She is not a maniac_.  
“You know that he never intended to marry me, mama?”  
“Of course he didn’t, dear, he was married already.”  
“He did plan a wedding with the governess.”  
“Exactly. A governess, whom nobody cares about. Should he try to do that to you, he would never come out of it alive. Sir George Lynn would have his head!”  
That was true.  
“Those games you played,” continued Lady Ingram. “Pretending as if he was courting you! Then, I suppose, he realised he was getting too serious so he cooked up a story about being hard up. Oh, I know that was a lie, I found out. He is as rich as ever. Fat lot of good will that do to him with that mad wife of his!”  
_She is not mad. Antoinette is not mad!_  
“Quite so.”  
“What I don’t understand is, why go through with that wedding to the governess? He must have known he would not get away with it.”  
“He likes to hurt women,” Bianca said in a moment of unexpected clarity.  
“But my dear, how horrible!”  
Bianca shrugged her shoulders.  
“Still I don’t know how he hid a wife in Thornfield for that long. Surely the servants must have an idea. And all of us there, for a whole month, suspecting nothing. Right under our noses!”  
_More like above our noses_.  
Bianca was itching to say “just because you didn’t notice anything doesn’t mean others didn’t.” Mrs Eshton heard noises from upstairs and Colonel Dent once remarked he had seen movement in the attic window when he was out riding.  
She bit her tongue.  
“I feel quite sorry for the governess,” Mary said. “I don’t think I could run away like that. No money and nowhere to go…”  
“She certainly has courage,” Bianca admitted. _What am I saying?_ “Anyhow, I hear she has a rich uncle in Madeira.”  
“Fancy that!” Lady Ingram cried. “And none of us knew anything of it!”  
“She didn’t know herself, mama,” Bianca said. “She had never met this uncle.”  
Lady Ingram eyed her elder daughter suspiciously. “You know a lot about this affair.”  
“Ellie is friends with the Thornfield housemaid. You know, that Leah. They’ve been corresponding.”  
“Is it true a stranger appeared in church during the ceremony and declared an impediment to the marriage?”  
“Leah knows nothing of the wedding. Or the lack of it.”  
“That would be some stuff of comedy,” Teddy remarked.  
“Really, Teddy, I wish you didn’t say such things,” his mother reproached him. “The poor bride-to-be must have been horrified.”  
“Oh please, mother, don’t pretend to be concerned for that girl. You would have enjoyed the sight. Your only regret is not being there.”  
“Oh do hold your tongue, young man.”  
“As you wish.”  
He walked out.  
Lady Ingram sighed and murmured something about his late father.  
“I’m going riding,” Bianca announced, “coming, Mary?”  
Mary nodded and both sisters left the drawing room.  
“I’m sorry, Mary, you shouldn’t be subjected to this…”  
“Don’t worry about it, mother’s always going to be mother. At least I know she’s happy about me and Charles, for she is not talking about that.”  
“Which means she can’t find fault,” Bianca laughed.  
“What do you want to do now?”  
That was the question.  
“I need to find Richard Mason.”  
Patterson the butler came up empty. His reach didn’t go beyond the British Isles.  
They met Teddy at the stables. They each mounted their favourite horse and galloped to the lake at the edge of the Park. Here they got down.  
It was when Bianca was watching the ducks swimming in the lake, ducks that were not the least bit concerned with pathetic human affairs, that the solution presented itself to her.  
It was so simple—and yet so difficult. But should it succeed, the world was hers.  
“Mason has most likely left England by now,” Teddy said.  
“Surely someone must know something.”  
“What do you need him for, anyway? Not like he’s been much use.”  
“I mean to make him of more use.”  
“I don’t understand what’s wrong with that man,” Teddy shook his head. “Why does he let Rochester to treat his sister that way? I would never allow that to happen to either of you.” He made a fist. “Mary, If Lord Harlington ever touches a hair on your head, I will kill him!”  
Mary laughed. “Oh, he knows that.”  
“Then you can tell the same to Mr Mason when we find him.”  
“What the deuce are you talking about, Bianca?”  
“This is what I’m going to do. I am going to marry Richard Mason.”


	17. Chapter 17

Grace Poole

Leah was afraid of me, I could tell. It must have taken her courage to speak to me.  
“There is a letter for you, Mrs Poole,” she handed me the envelope one morning.  
“Thank you, Leah.” I tried to make my voice as warm as I could.  
It was from Miss Bianca Ingram. She was back home in Ingram Park, helping her sister with wedding arrangements. She heard about what happened and intended to find Richard Mason and rescue Antoinette out of Thornfield Hall. “ _I will go to any lengths to get her out of there. Please inform me if you know anything about Mr Mason’s whereabouts_.”  
My mistress sat quietly on the bed when I returned.  
“Antoinette,” I called her by her name. “You still care for Miss Ingram?”  
She clasped her hands. “More than anything in the world,” she whispered. “Where is she? Is she coming?”  
I showed her the letter.  
“Where is Richard?” she asked me.  
“That’s what I don’t know. But it occurs to me that that solicitor chap might. If only I could remember his name….”  
“Didn’t you say it was Briggs?”  
“Briggs, that’s it! You do have a memory, ma’am.”  
“It’s you who thinks I’m crazy when I’m not. Can you find this Briggs man?”  
“I’ll see what I can do.”  
That afternoon I went to the local inn, The Rochester Arms. Not having been there for many years and with tongues still wagging about the infamous lunatic, I expected all eyes on me when I entered the establishment. I calmly walked to the counter and ordered a pint of ale. I complimented the innkeeper on the beverage—though it wasn’t to my taste—and enquired about the health of his wife and children. Thus reassured of my humanity, he was able to relax and so did the punters.  
I was lucky.  
Soon the seat next to me was occupied by a man who introduced himself as John Green, a clerk from the church, the same one who was there on that fatal morning, the morning of the aborted wedding.  
John Green was only too keen to talk of the event, glad to have found a new listener. I’d already known what happened, from Mr Mason. How the solicitor came up to the altar and objected to the marriage and Mr Mason stood as a witness. But still I feigned interest and the appropriate reaction of surprise and shock and how scandalous it was, who would have heard of such thing, etcetera.  
Though by then, I had exhausted all my sympathy for “poor Mr Rochester” and “poor Miss Eyre”. But I will always remember John Green fondly for that one thing—he remembered the address of the solicitor, Mr Briggs. I imprinted this detail in my memory so much that I have not forgotten to this day.  
As soon as I returned to the house, I wrote a note for Miss Ingram.


	18. Chapter 18

Bianca

The wedding was like something from a fairytale.  
The bride was beautiful in her snow white wedding gown, Ingram Park looked its best in the early autumn sunshine and Lady Ingram shone in highest satisfaction.  
The wedding guests included the company from Thornfield Hall, except, as could be expected, Edward Rochester.  
It didn’t appear that anyone missed him. The bride and groom’s side mingled easily and hearty banter was established, particularly among the younger people. Colonel Dent and the groom agreed to organise a hunting party next year and a young cousin of Lord Harlington appeared to be captivated by Louisa Eshton. Her sister preferred to stick with the Ingrams.  
“Lady Ingram is positively beaming,” Amy commented.  
“She does enjoy it,” Teddy said. “This is more for her benefit than for the bride’s. Mary would have been happy to be wed in an old dress with no guests, as long as she was getting her groom.”  
“All the same, I’m glad this wedding took place,” Amy said. “And I like your mother. More charming hostess you won’t find in the county.”  
“That’s the best compliment you can give her,” Bianca commented. “She’s been longing to organise our weddings since we became of age. Just wait till Teddy gets married—she will fight with his bride’s family for the preparations.”  
Amy turned her head away. Did she just blush? Teddy, completely oblivious, was shaking his wine glass around and staring nowhere.  
“Doesn’t Mary look dreamy?” Amy said. “The whiteness of the gown compliments her dark hair. And the lord is quite a handsome man, I have to say.”  
“Is he?” Teddy piped up.  
Bianca smiled and slowly walked away from them.

There was a light knock on her door. “Are you still up?”  
It was Teddy.  
“Come in.”  
The celebrations were over. The newlyweds left for their honeymoon, the wedding guests for their homes or, those who were staying at Ingram Park, for their guest bedrooms. It was past midnight and Bianca sat on the small stool at her dressing table.  
Teddy closed the door behind him and sat down in a chair.  
“Listen, I’ve been thinking. I’m not entirely convinced about this Mason fellow. Even if he gets in touch, it’s not guaranteed he will agree to marry you.”  
Three days ago a response had been received from Mr Briggs. He refused to divulge Mr Mason’s whereabouts but promised to forward Bianca’s letter to him.  
“He will agree to help get Antoinette out of Thornfield and that’s what matters. Marriage will merely make things easier for us.”  
“Are you hoping he marries you to get mother off your back?”  
“You know me too well for me to lie to you. Yes. But that’s not the only reason.”  
“No, I suppose. It would make you two sisters-in-law.”  
“Do you think I don’t wish there was another way?” Bianca sighed. “Perhaps one day, there will be time when women are in control of their lives and people like us are accepted. But for now, alas, we have to make do with what we have.”  
“That’s why I’m here. I can help you. I could buy a cottage for the two of you, somewhere further away from here and Thornfield, but not too far. Maybe on the coast, Antoinette likes the seaside.”  
“But what about mother? And how will we be able to sustain it?”  
“I can divert part of my income towards you and we will come up with something to tell mother. What do you say?”  
“I don’t wish to be a burden on you. And if my plan succeeds, we’ll sail for West Indies as soon as possible.”  
“West Indies! You don’t seriously plan to go live there?”  
“I do.”  
“That far away? What am I to do without you?”  
“Don’t be silly. You will have a wife of your own one day. Perhaps quite soon.”  
“Probably I will, but that doesn’t mean I won’t miss my sister. First Mary takes off to Hampshire, now you… I declare, I will buy a house in Jamaica! Yes, I will.”  
“Oh, Teddy, that would be wonderful!”  
“Any wife of mine will be pleased at such prospect. A way to escape English winters. Is that settled?”  
She nodded.  
“Good. Now we wait for Mason’s contact.”  
“I just hope it’s not too late and Rochester won’t go so mad he kills Antoinette.”  
“Come now, Bianca, think rationally. He’s had fifteen years to kill her. He didn’t kill her when he could’ve got away with it.”  
“There was no Jane Governess that deserted him then.”  
“True enough. The poor fellow is really hung up on her, isn’t he?”  
“Grace writes he walks the grounds at night, screaming her name into the dark. But yet it is Antoinette that is the mad one.”  
“Well, I’m off to bed,” he stood up. “I’m tired.” He yawned.  
“Goodnight then.”  
“Goodnight.”

_Dear Miss Ingram, I am most interested in what you can tell me about my sister and will only be too glad to meet you. I am staying at The Star Hotel in Southampton until 17h September, when my boat departs._   
_With my best regards, yours truly,_   
_Richard Mason_

The letter came in the morning post. It was the 13th day of September.  
She nearly spilt her cup of coffee. Mother’s voice sounded as if she was far away.  
She glanced at Teddy, then at the letter, then back at Teddy. He understood.  
_Keep it together, woman!_  
“…and so I told her,” Lady Ingram was babbling “but my dear Margaret, you cannot possibly expect me to organise a ball this winter and we’re going to London for the season, I still have one daughter to think about… the new gown for Bianca isn’t yet finished…”  
Bianca stood up. “I’m going out. I need some fresh air.”  
“You’ve not finished your breakfast, darling.”  
“I don’t want to eat any more.”  
“As you wish. I’m going to the Pennings this afternoon, so if you want to join me, be ready at one o’clock.”  
Bianca ran to the garden. Teddy followed her a minute later. She showed him the letter.  
“Good news, he’s in England, bad news, he’ll soon be gone.”  
“Write him a letter explaining everything—he may stay longer when he reads what you have to say.”  
“That’s just it, how do I put all that in a letter? I certainly cannot propose marriage…”  
“Then don’t. Just write to him about Antoinette.”  
“There’s not enough time! Oh, I feel like everything is slipping through my fingers!”  
She put her hands on her face.  
Teddy paced the garden five or six times. Then he stopped and said: “We’re going to Southampton.”  
“How? Now?”  
“As soon as mother leaves for the Pennings.”  
“Are you serious?”  
“Dead serious. Go and prepare yourself, I’ll take care of the rest.”  
“Teddy, you are… you are…” she couldn’t come up with a word but he didn’t need it.  
“Just be quick,” he said.  
She hugged him and squeezed him hard. Then, with a beating heart, she ran to her bedchamber.

The young adventurer rubbed his hands. “Mission Southampton commence!”  
That afternoon, a carriage shot out of Ingram Park at rapid speed, driven by Lord Ingram himself. The carriage had only one passenger, his sister Bianca. When any of the servants wondered where those two have gone to, as there weren’t any plans for them to leave home, Patterson the butler explained that the young lord received a message from the family of his old school friend Thomas Aston, who had been taken ill. The lord, being a good friend, decided to go visit him at once. Miss Bianca, feeling lonely after her sister’s marriage, went along. It was not known how long they would be away…

Bianca, safely in the carriage, settled herself comfortably in her travelling cloak. It was happening! The excitement was rising.  
There would be repercussions. When Lady Ingram returns from the Pennings and hears the story, knowing well there was no such friend of Teddy’s by name of Thomas Aston—but she would deal with that in time.  
For now, all that mattered was getting to Southampton before Richard Mason’s boat departed.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I should probably clarify that The Star Hotel in Southampton is fictional.

Bianca

“Miss Ingram?”  
The siblings were sitting in the lounge of The Star Hotel in Southampton when Richard Mason approached them.  
Bianca rose. “Mr Mason, it’s a pleasure to see you again. You remember my brother, Lord Theodore Ingram?”  
“Of course. From the party at Thornfield Hall, yes.”  
The two men shook hands.  
“Should we get right down to business?”  
“I see you don’t waste time, Miss Ingram.”  
“Time is crucial, Mr Mason.”  
They sat down.  
“So, what do you know of my sister?”  
“First I should start with telling you that I have known her since the night… the night you visited her.”  
Mr Mason leant forward. “You have—seen her?”  
“We found the secret room. Well, Teddy did.”  
As briefly as possible, Bianca recounted the events of that strange night, followed by what happened afterwards. “In short, Antoinette and I love each other,” she concluded. “I’m determined to get her out of Thornfield. The reason I came to you is… I hoped you would help me.”  
Richard Mason nodded slowly. “I see.” He stared at the carpet for a minute or two. Bianca’s palms were sweating.  
“You managed to keep your relationship a secret?” he asked.  
“Yes.”  
“Nobody ever saw you?” he raised his eyebrows. “At Thornfield, sneaking upstairs? For a whole month?”  
“I am very good at sneaking,” she smiled.  
“She is,” Teddy confirmed. “Trust me.”  
“You did a good job finding me.”  
“Not without Grace Poole’s assistance. She was the one that gave me the details for your solicitor, Mr Briggs. She got them from the church clerk.”  
“Oh yes, that one.”  
“I wrote to Mr Briggs, enquiring about you. He promised he would pass you my letter. I received yours four days before your departure from England. We had to act fast.”  
“You are in contact with Antoinette?”  
“I sometimes write to Grace Poole. She then decides what she tells her, if anything at all. I don’t want to upset her any further, you understand.”  
“Yes.” He stroked his chin. “What’s your plan, should you succeed in getting her out of Thornfield?”  
“Why, to leave the country as soon as possible.”  
“To go where?”  
“Jamaica, of course.” Why was he asking that, wasn’t it obvious?  
“You want to move to Jamaica?”  
“Where else?” She became unsure. “You still have a house there, right?” She looked at him. “Please tell me you have a house there.”  
He threw his head back and laughed. “You panic, Miss Ingram. Yes, we still have a house there. Our parents’ house, that is. In fact it was renovated only last year. Apologies, Miss Ingram,” he smiled at her warmly. “I don’t mean to cause distress. Yes, the house is fit to live in. I only use one or two rooms when I’m there, the rest is empty. You will be able to move in immediately.”  
“You will help me, then?”  
“I will. As a matter of fact…” he tilted his head. “I decided to take action to get my sister out of that situation myself.”  
“But—I don’t understand, Mr Mason. You are set to sail away tomorrow?”  
“For a short time only and the voyage is of most importance. I wouldn’t go otherwise.”  
“For a short time—to Jamaica?”  
“Jamaica? No, my boat is for Madeira, not Jamaica.”  
“Madeira?”  
“I have some business there. My plan was to take care of it as quickly as possible and come back to England.”  
“If you don’t mind me asking, Mr Mason,” Teddy spoke up, “how come you never tried to help your sister before?”  
“There was nothing I could do for her, Lord Ingram. I don’t have any connections here in England. I was afraid that if I said anything, he would hurt her even more.”  
“What about when they still lived in Jamaica?” Bianca asked.  
“I wasn’t always around. I took over father’s business just before they got married. I was gone most of the time—West Indies, America, Europe. I didn’t know what was going on between them and Antoinette never confided in me. When I visited, everything appeared normal. You know Fairfax never told anyone they were leaving for England? One day I arrived to Spanish Town and decided to pay them a visit, only to find their house closed up. He dismissed all the servants. I travelled to Thornfield as soon as I could and discovered he had her locked in the attic. He said she was insane.”  
“Wasn’t there anyone else that could help you?”  
Richard shook his head. “Both of our parents were dead within a year of Antoinette’s wedding and there are no other relatives. I think we have some distant cousins here, somewhere around London, but neither of us have ever met them. From what I heard, they don’t care for us.”  
“But you decided to do something now. Why?”  
“Hard to say.” He sighed. “After she attacked me with that knife…” he stopped.  
“You must know, she instantly regretted it,” Bianca said quickly. “So much that one of the first things she told me was not to hurt my brother. That was before I knew you were her brother. She was very remorseful.”  
“I don’t hold it against her. I think… I probably deserved it.”  
“That you did, Mr Mason.”  
“I appreciate your honesty, Miss Ingram,” he smiled. “It was a wake-up call. Fairfax bundled me out of Thornfield before I came to myself properly. He advised me to forget about her, think of her as dead. I stayed with Dr Carter for a couple of days, but he is loyal to Fairfax—he made sure I couldn’t even move in the direction of Thornfield. I sailed to Madeira, thinking about what I was going to do. I wanted to consult an old friend, but he was very ill and his condition worsened, I couldn’t burden him with my troubles. Then we heard about the wedding.”  
“You mean Edward’s wedding to plain Ja—to Miss Eyre?”  
“Yes. I should tell you that the friend I referred to was Miss Eyre’s uncle. John Eyre.”  
“Indeed?” both Ingrams exclaimed in unison.  
“He has been a correspondent of our house for many years.”  
“What a coincidence!”  
“I know. I never learnt her name, although she was the one that tended to my wounds.”  
“So, you heard about the nuptials?”  
“I guess Miss Eyre thought it proper to notify her only living relation. They had never met each other, you see. John Eyre was told she died at the boarding school. She probably never even knew of his existence.”  
That’s quite sad, Bianca thought. _And why do I care_. “Continue, please, Mr Mason.”  
“Miss Eyre wrote to her uncle that she was marrying Mr Edward Fairfax Rochester of Thornfield Hall, Yorkshire. John Eyre read the letter out aloud to me and I said, impossible, the gentleman in question is already married. Not being able to travel himself to stop this false marriage, he asked me to go in his place. So I did. I took his English solicitor Briggs with me and we stopped the wedding.”  
“If any person here knows of any just cause or impediment why these two may not be lawfully joined together in holy matrimony,” recited Teddy, “speak now or forever hold your peace.”  
“This is no amusement, Lord Ingram,” Mason reproached him, “but nevertheless that it what happened. Briggs came forward and spoke up and so, the wedding never took place and a young woman was spared the shame of bigamy.”  
“She may not think so now, but you did her a good service.”  
“I acted for her uncle mainly, but I would have tried to stop any other marriage Fairfax would attempt.”  
Something inside her tickled. _You knew about it, you knew about it and you didn’t do anything_.  
“Yes, it was the right thing to do.”  
His tone became more intimate. “You know what I don’t understand? How did Fairfax still lie to her after what happened that night? She saw my injuries. She saw I was attacked. Who did she think did it? Grace Poole?”  
“That’s exactly what she thought.”  
“But Grace Poole is a carer and a Quaker, she would never hurt anyone.”  
“But she didn’t know what Grace Poole’s position was. I don’t know what Edward told her, but not the truth, that’s certain.”  
“He ordered us not to talk to each other in the outer room.”  
“Wait, what?” Teddy cried out. “How on earth did he think he could stop you? I’d have talked for sure, just because.”  
“I didn’t care for talking. I was too weak from the shock and the loss of blood.”  
Bianca remembered something. “I saw Jane fetching a phial from Edward’s room.”  
“It was meant for me.”  
“Did it help you?”  
“Maybe, who knows. When I was walking to the post-chaise, I turned back to Fairfax and pleaded ‘Let her be taken care of; let her be treated as tenderly as may be.’ That’s what I told him. Miss Eyre stood right there and heard every word. You’d think after that he would come clean.”  
“The House of Lies,” Bianca murmured absent-mindedly.  
Richard Mason went on: “I realised it then, that morning, that it was not only Antoinette that was suffering from his actions. He took us up to the attic, you know. The clergyman came along as well. My sister got into a rage and clawed her husband’s throat and I remember thinking, if she kills you, Fairfax, you will deserve it. Then I reproached myself for thinking like that. Not that I felt sorry for him, I don’t care if he should die tomorrow. But for Antoinette to become murderess… no,” he shook his head. “I knew I had to do something. But I still had no idea what. Then I received a letter from Briggs, with which he enclosed your letter to him. I was gobsmacked. Miss Ingram, I have never met anyone who cared about my sister, ever. I thought, this must be Fate. So I wrote to you, though at times I felt like fool. What if it was a prank, a practical joke, played by Fairfax, a revenge for the ruined wedding?”  
“Yes, I can see why you’d think that.”  
“But no, I told myself, the letter had a genuine Lord Ingram’s seal and I remembered you and your lady mother and sister from Thornfield Hall as classy ladies. You would never approve of Fairfax after that affair. I’ll take my chances, I thought. And here you are.”  
He smiled again. Louisa Eshton would probably find him irresistible at that moment.  
“I was afraid we wouldn’t reach you in time. We left on a whim. We even lied to our mother.”  
“I see you’re prepared to go through a lot for Antoinette.”  
“And this is only the beginning.”  
“Yes. So what do you suggest we do now, have you got a plan?”  
“Well,” Teddy stretched his arms, “I could do with some food, if you ask me.”  
“Ah, yes, forgive me,” Richard Mason said. “I should have offered. You will require rooms too.”  
“That would be good.”  
“I’ll go and take care of that. If you will follow me, please. We can meet in the dining room at, shall we say, six? The food here is superb. Put it on my tab.”


	20. Chapter 20

Bianca

“So Antoinette agreed to the marriage with Edward?” Bianca asked as they dined. This part of Antoinette’s life she didn’t know and didn’t want to ask her about, for fear of bringing bad memories back.  
Richard Mason nodded. “She did. She was sad, though, devastated—there was a woman she loved…”  
“She told me about her,” Bianca interjected. “Continue.”  
“But Antoinette agreed to marry Fairfax to please our father. Our father was… he was good to us, but not the best husband to our mother. He travelled a lot and was gone for weeks, months sometimes. We knew he had affairs with other women, he was like that.” He smiled sadly. “Mother was prone to drink, that much is true. She was a very unhappy woman.”  
“Isn’t everyone in this tragic story?”  
“By the time of Antoinette’s wedding, she was too far gone to care about anything. But she had never shown any signs of madness. Fairfax says that Antoinette got it from our mother, but that’s a lie.”  
“Mr Mason, I know Antoinette isn’t mad. Quite the opposite, she is incredibly sane for someone who has been locked in an attic for a decade.” She looked at Mr Mason and quickly added. “I know she attacked you, but—”  
“That doesn’t mean she’s insane. I know. I have never seen so her that enraged. Something set her off.”  
“The company at Thornfield, according to Grace.”  
“Well, Grace would know. It was pure foolishness from Fairfax to host company in his house with her locked upstairs. I never knew him to do that.”  
“Amy Eshton said the same,” Teddy inserted. “Remember, Bianca, at Leas? She was surprised he invited all of us. He would throw an occasional dinner party or a Christmas ball once or twice, never anything as big as this.”  
“Probably because of that Jane of his,” Bianca said. “He wanted to impress her or, more likely, he needed me there so that he could flirt with me to make her jealous.”  
Richard Mason put the fork down. “But surely—that’s awful. Aside from the fact he’s married. Why, if he was in love with Miss Eyre, couldn’t he have just told her? Or is that not how it works?”  
“Usually.” She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t know how it works?”  
He shook his head. “No. I’ve somehow never been interested in that. I get asked why I’m not married all the time.”  
“You don’t want heirs?”  
“I don’t care for heirs.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Never did. Please don’t think me a woman-hater, Miss Ingram,” he hastened to add. “Because I’m not. I couldn’t make a woman happy.”  
Bianca smiled. “I wonder if you find me unladylike for asking these questions.”  
“I’m sure there is nothing unladylike about you, Miss Ingram.”  
Teddy gave her a gentle kick under the table. _Tell him now!_  
“Mr Mason, let me tell you more about myself.”  
“Please do. I have talked enough.”  
“The situation is like this; I have no property to speak of. There are two options opened for me: to marry a man whom I will force myself to be a wife to and who I will end up despising, or to live as an old maid, dependent on charity of others.”  
Mr Mason frowned. “But—the Ingram property…”  
“Is entailed,” Teddy said.  
“So you see how it is,” Bianca went on. “My sister Mary has recently got married to a Lord Harlington. She doesn’t have to worry anymore.”  
“Lord Harlington? I seem to recognise the name.”  
“Possibly, we’re not far from his place. They’re on their honeymoon now.”  
“Yes, he’s a patron of arts and culture in Hampshire.”  
“He is quite a cultured man and devoted to my sister.”  
“Please pass on my congratulations to them. Pray continue.”  
“Edward played this game with me, he made me think he would marry me. Everyone else thought so.”  
“That is true,” Teddy confirmed.  
“I was happy to go along with that. His type suits me, you understand. He would busy himself with his mistresses and leave me alone. Then I met Antoinette. I learnt she was his wife.”  
“That must have been a tricky situation for you.”  
“Quite the opposite. I needed that marriage more than ever—so I could be with her. Oh, don’t worry, Mr Mason, I’m no bigamist. We would only pretend to be married. He would go and have fun with other women and I would be with Antoinette. An arrangement as perfect as I could ever hope for. And it all could have come true, it if wasn’t for Jane Eyre.”  
“Well, Miss Ingram, with respect, Miss Eyre cannot help how Mr Rochester feels about her.”  
“No, I guess not. And in any case, we cannot be sure if he would have gone with it. He let out a rumour about his property being significantly smaller than what we thought, which meant that my mother immediately ordered to pack our bags and leave Thornfield. I wouldn’t even have minded him being that much poorer, if only I could be with her. But this rumour was his way of telling me to go away.”  
“I wouldn’t have liked that for you, anyhow.”  
“Me neither and that’s what I told her,” Teddy chimed in. “I never trusted Rochester.”  
“And you were wise to do so, my lord. He’d have the power over both you and Antoinette.”  
“I don’t have much choice, Mr Mason.”  
“Lord Ingram, isn’t there anything you can do for your sister?”  
“There is nothing I can do, Mr Mason. I tried, but the way the property is—oh! I see what you mean.”  
Richard raised his eyebrows. Teddy had unwittingly used the same phrase as the other man had earlier.  
Bianca smiled. They found the first thing they had in common, before they even played their first game of cricket.  
The dessert was brought in. Richard Mason and Bianca locked their eyes over the cheesecake.  
She noticed the resemblance with Antoinette. The same nose, the same lips. His eyes were hazel, as opposed to his sister’s dark brown, but of the same shape. Not bad looking for a man, she thought.  
_He’ll definitely do_.  
“I wonder if you can guess where I’m going with this,” Bianca said.  
“I have an idea.”  
Stupid me, Bianca thought, I should have approached this differently. This man was a trader and she knew nothing about business.  
Why did she not know anything about business?  
“Mr Mason, suppose you were to enter into a contract of matrimony—purely for business reasons—if this would help your sister, would you do it?”  
“Would I do it?”  
He seemed to fall into deep thoughts. Then he glanced at Teddy, but the young lord was stuffing himself with cheesecake and acted as if nothing concerned him. “You were right, Mason, the food here is delicious. This cheesecake is sublime—or do you not think so?”  
Richard Mason took his plate with the untouched slice of cheesecake and put it in front of Teddy. “You can have this, your lordship, I’m not a big lover of sweets.”  
“Oh thanks, man, this is most generous of you.”  
He looked back at Bianca, who was covering her face with her hand, to hide her smile. Their eyes met again and this time they both burst into laughter.  
“Well, this is the most absurd state of affairs I’ve ever found myself in,” Mason said. “Miss Ingram, I don’t wish to keep you in this awkward situation any longer. I agree to marry you, if you do me the honour.”  
“I do.” She stretched her hand over the table towards him. He shook it. “Deal.”  
“Smashing,” Teddy said. “How soon can you get a licence?”

They married as soon as the licence came through.  
“How are you feeling?” Richard asked when they took a walk on the pier after the ceremony.  
“Relieved.”  
“Business concluded successfully, I say.”  
“It’s not that, really, not to me.” There was no reason not to be honest with him. “I am no longer an unmarried woman. No more of mother’s complaints and sighs, no more snarky comments. Though I can be snarky back, it gets tiring.”  
“Ah yes, I’ve not thought of that.”  
“No, you couldn’t.” She waited before she spoke again. “Richard, we’re both clear that this is just a piece of paper. If you ever feel like you want to be with someone—“  
“It’s alright, Bianca. Don’t worry about it.”  
“I thought that… maybe you prefer your own gender.”  
“No, although,” he looked towards Teddy who was further down the pier, “at times I thought I did. Now I satisfy myself with friendships.” He smiled.  
“I see.”  
Richard pointed at one of the ships. “You see that one, _Princess Anne_? She’s set for West Indies.”  
Bianca’s heart beat fast. She felt so close to everything her heart desired. Hang in there, Antoinette…  
“Thank you,” she said. “For what you’ve done.”  
“Oh, I gain too. It may just prove advantageous for me to have a wife,” he said with a smile.  
“You were supposed to be in Madeira now…”  
“That has been taken care of. Speaking of which, you might want to know—Jane Eyre’s uncle passed away yesterday. He left everything to her.”  
“Is this a large fortune?”  
“Twenty thousand.”  
“Twenty thousand! Not bad for an orphan who had to make her living as a governess. Only, she disappeared.”  
“Briggs is looking for her. I do pray nothing’s happened to her.”  
“You know, somehow, I don’t think anything has. I believe that our Jane has good fortune fairies looking after her. She will be alright.”  
They joined Teddy at the end of the pier.  
“I expect I will meet the wonderful Lady Ingram as her new son-in-law,” Richard remarked.  
“I guess so. I forgot all about that.”  
“Good point,” Teddy said. “It will have to be done, Bianca.”  
“Is there a problem with your mother?” Richard asked. “Forgive me, but the way you talk about her…”  
Bianca sighed. “Yes and no. She can be rather tiresome, when you’re her daughter of certain age without a husband.”  
“Well, you have one now.”  
“True. But we still have to come up with a story of how we got married. Under no circumstances is she to know I brought it up myself. The truth would be a blow to her. She’d have to go lie down in a dark room for days.”  
“With a wet towel on her forehead,” Teddy added.  
Richard laughed. “I see. We’ll think of a story. I found Lady Ingram quite agreeable, though we didn’t speak much.”  
“Because you’re rich.”  
“Oh is that it? I get it now.” He frowned. “I don’t know why I thought she was Italian.”  
“She is. Half of her, at least.”  
Bianca told Richard about her mother’s villa on Lake Como, where the lady planned to retire once Teddy got married and in the meantime was being rented out. “She also has a brother, who is an artist in Rome. No wife, no children. Uncle Cesare lives on his own terms.”  
“So, what now?” Teddy asked.  
“Is the carriage ready?”  
“As ready as can be.”  
“Then we start for Thornfield tomorrow morning.”

“I was never thrilled about this plan of yours, as youk now,” Teddy said to her when they were alone, “but I daresay it worked out quite well and Mason’s not so bad after all.”  
“Really? Well, that’s a relief.”  
“Mind you, he’s not a catch like Lord Harlington, though not as stiff as him. And he knows about trading.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: racial slur

Grace Poole

 

The last week at Thornfield Hall passed in the atmosphere of dread.

Leah asked for a leave of absence. Her aunt, who had brought her up, became very ill and Leah, naturally, needed to go attend to her. The leave was granted.

“She’s gone,” my mistress said, watching from the window in the outer room. With the master getting madder and madder by day and spending more time outside than inside, I thought it would do no harm to let her move between the rooms of the attic. What did it matter anymore?

“Do you think her aunt’s really sick?”

“Ma’am?” I looked at my mistress with surprise. “Do you suggest Leah lied?”

“Why not? What good girl would want to stay in a madhouse?”

She did have a point. Leah had been uncomfortable ever since the secret-wife-in-the-attic revelation and after the departure of Mrs Fairfax and Miss Eyre’s escape, she must have felt alone and lost. I terrified her, my mistress terrified her more and the master terrified her the most of all. Sure, she was a very honest girl, but—

References she would get from Mrs Fairfax and anyhow, by now the whole county and the next heard about what happened at Thornfield Hall and no one would blame her for going after a new position.

As it turned out, Antoinette was right. Leah’s aunt was as fit as a fiddle and she may live to be hundred. The girl simply sought refuge from Thornfield Hall at her aunt’s place before she found a new situation. Eventually she did—at a large estate down in Hampshire, with the Lord and Lady Harlington. I hear Leah’s doing well, her employers are satisfied with her service and I wish her, from the bottom of my heart, all the very best.

 

“What will happen to us?”

The sun had just set after a windy autumn day. We were sitting in the outer room, for a change, with cups of tea.

“I used to dream my brother would come save me,” my mistress said. “The first year here, every time I closed my eyes, I imagined Richard breaking that door and taking me back home to Jamaica. Then when he really came to see me, he only said a few words and left. I broke down—do you remember, Grace?”

“I do.”

“But still, even for years afterwards, I believed that. I dreamt that he was putting together an army that would one day come and tear down Thornfield. Fool that I am, I still sometimes believe it. Can you imagine that, Grace?”

“I can. And I think—I think he would do it, if only he had help. Maybe he just never asked anyone for help.”

My mistress went quiet. Then she said. “She will come for me. I know.”

I prayed it wasn’t a foolish hope again. I had not heard from Miss Ingram since I sent her the letter with Mr Briggs’s details.

“If you say so, ma’am.”

She took a sip. “I’d rather have coffee, to be honest.”

“We’ve run out. I need to ask John to get some.”

The state of the house being what it was, it was a wonder we had anything.

“Have I ever told you how Edward first got mad with me?”

“You’ve never shared anything about your marriage with me, ma’am.”

“Did you know that Edward received thirty thousand pounds when we married?”

“I heard something of the kind.”

“His father made him marry me, to avoid having to divide his property between his brother Rowland and him. But then Rowland died with no son to pass the estate to, so Edward inherited everything anyway. But by then he was already stuck with me. He was raving mad, Grace—got into a furious rage and smashed some of my mother’s nice china.”

“Did he ever hurt you?”

“He never beat me, if that is what you mean. He never hurt me physically. My scars are not visible.” She stared in her cup. “There was this girl I knew. We were lovers. Her parents worked for my father, a carpenter and a nursemaid. They were freed slaves.” She took a sip. “She cried bucketful when I agreed to marry Edward. I naively believed we could still be together. That I could employ her as our cook—she could cook such meals, Grace! But she refused that arrangement. She said it was demeaning. She was right.” After a pause she added: “Much like Jane Eyre refused Edward’s offer of being his mistress.”

“It must have been heart-breaking for you.”

“It was. But I should have known better. I knew I would have to marry some noble Englishman one day. My father always made it clear. I was a fool to ever begin that romance. You see, I could tell she liked me but I knew she would never dare act on it. It was me who initiated it. And now I caused her sorrow and put her in danger. I have never forgiven myself for it.”

“Do you know what happened to her?”

“She left Spanish Town and moved to the other side of the island. It was for the best. The night before she left, she came to say goodbye to me. Edward and I were married only two months then. She met me in the garden of our villa. We embraced each other and held hands and, we couldn’t help it, we kissed. It was to be our last one, I didn’t think any harm wold come from one last kiss. But Edward saw us from the window and caused a racket. He stormed to the garden and separated us. He roared at her, called her a filthy negress, an animal and more. But I didn’t let him hurt her. I shouted at her to run away, grabbed him by the shirt and scratched his face—I had long nails then. I used all the strength I had against him. You saw how strong I can be. But you see, Grace, he enjoyed it. All at once he forgot about the filthy animal and took me in his arms. Our Edward has strange tastes too.” She laughed.

So I wasn’t only imagining it when I thought he was enjoying it when his wife tried to strangle the life out of him.

“You people are strange,” I said.

My mistress only laughed—not her mad laugh, just the laugh. I sighed, wondering what ever possessed me when I took on this profession.

I should have stuck to sewing.

 

“Grace, he’s coming here.”

Three days passed. I was dozing off in my chair in the inner room. Lately, I had been feeling tired. 

The words of my mistress seemed to be coming to me through a thick cloud.

“Grace?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

_So tired_.

“He’s coming,” she whispered in my ear.

It took me a few seconds to wake up properly.

There were heavy steps in the outer room, then the door opened.

Antoinette stood in the middle of the room, ready for whatever was to come.

The master entered. His hair was unkempt and he looked like he hadn’t shaved for days.

He advanced towards his wife.

“Damn you!” he roared. “Damn you to eternity!”

I clenched my hands. My mistress smiled. “Again? What have I done now?”

“Do you know that Leah’s not coming back?”

“Oh really? Better for her.”

“I have lost everyone. Everyone! Because of you.”

“Oh no, dear husband, this is entirely your own doing.”

He grabbed the teacup that was on the top of the cabinet—I meant to take it to the kitchen once I woke from my nap—and threw it against the wall.

“You gross beast! Hyena!”

He unleashed a barrage of curse words at her, words I will not repeat here. Antoinette just laughed and laughed and laughed. “Edward is upset. Can you hear him, Grace? Are these words worthy of an English gentleman?”

He seized her arms and shook her.

I stood up. “Mr Rochester, I cannot allow you to hurt my patient. Please leave the room.”

“Oh shut up, you drunkard!”

He had never spoken to me like that before. But he released her.

Her face was stone cold but there was fire in her eyes.

“Please leave this room, Edward,” she said calmly.

“You think you can order me in my own house?”

“Yes, I do. I always have and always will.”

The truth of it struck then. He was never a free man while he was married to her. And she, imprisoned for a decade in an attic room, deprived of human companionship, fresh air and sunshine, held the power over him.

“You stole my life, Edward.”

“You stole mine first, so we’re equal.”

Antoinette shook her head. Mr Rochester turned to me. “Have you got your bottle of gin here, Grace?”

I had. I took it out of the cabinet shelf and handed it to him. He took a swig, passed the bottle to his wife, who did the same.

“Now, be gone,” she commanded him quietly.

He turned to leave.

“Edward,” she called as he was closing the door behind him.

He looked at her. “Bertha?”

“I’m sorry your Jane has run away.”

“Oh you are, are you?”

He banged the door shut.

 

I swept the slivers of the teacup with a sigh. “Do I need this?”

“So now we know why Leah left,” my mistress spoke.

“I thought we were clear on that.”

“It wasn’t only that. It was because of Edward.”

“You think that he… but he’s never tried to touch a maid—and in his own house at that!”

“I know but he is desperate now.”

“He could have gone away if he wanted any—things to do with a woman.”  
“Well, he didn’t.”

“You must be mistaken, ma’am. Leah of all people!”

“Why else would he be so angry about her leaving?”

“I don’t know. She had been here for quite some time. She was part of Thornfield, much like Mrs Fairfax.” By now I was getting angry myself.  “What does it matter anymore? There’s no housemaid and the house is a mess. Nobody wants to work here and the daily help from inn does a poor job. What does it matter why Leah left? She’s not here. She’s gone.”

“Oh my dear Grace.” My mistress approached me and put her hand on my shoulder. “You deserve a break. Just leave the broken teacup there and go sit down in your chair. Or perhaps you would like to lie down in bed in the outer room and sleep for a while?”

“Thank you, ma’am, but I am quite well.”

I cleared the remains of the teacup and went to the kitchen to fetch a jug of water and some bread and butter that my mistress requested. As I climbed the stairs on the way back, I noticed there was a lit candle in the alcove window on the landing. It seemed strange as there was nobody around, but I presumed it was the master that put it there, as he sometimes preferred to use the service staircase. With the mood he was in, it was better not to cross him. I went on upstairs. I brought the jug and the tray of buttered bread slices to the inner room, made fire and settled in my chair with my sewing. My mistress sat comfortably in her favourite armchair with a copy of _Marmion_ Miss Ingram gave her during her stay at Thornfield.

“ _O, what a tangled web we weave,_

_When first we practise to deceive!_ ” my mistress recited into the stillness. “This line should be carved into the entrance gate of Thornfield.”

Mr Rochester did get tangled up in his web of deceit. “The House of Lies,” said I.

“Yes, that’s much shorter. I proclaim I will put the sign there myself. Get me some paper and pencils tomorrow, Grace.”

“Surely there’s no need to aggravate Mr Rochester any further.”

“Mr Rochester! What of my own aggravation, Grace? Ten years of it.”

“Ma’am, I am only thinking of not making the situation worse for you.”

“Very well then, but bring me the paper and pencils anyway. I will sketch a picture of Thornfield Hall and caption it _House of Lies_.”

This would actually be a good outlet for her, I thought. I decided I would bring her those sketching things tomorrow.

But of course, I never did.

My mistress resumed her reading.

My eyelids and hands started getting heavy, so I put the sewing away. My eyes closing, the last sight I remember being that of my mistress in her armchair, reading the copy of _Marmion_.


	22. Chapter 22

Bianca

 

Teddy and Richard took turns at the reins. Nights they spent at any inn they found by the road. If anyone enquired about who they were, Teddy gave his name as Mr Thomas Aston, travelling with his sister Miss Jane Aston and his associate Mr John Mason.

Teddy was in the driver’s seat for the last portion of their journey.

Richard observed he never realised how nice England looked in autumn.

“It is a nice season,” Bianca answered without interest. “Still, I prefer summer.”

It was getting dark. The carriage slowed down to a halt. Teddy put his head in the window. “We’re only yards away from an inn—The Rochester Arms. I propose we go in for some refreshments. I’m starving.”

“Isn’t this too close to Thornfield?” Richard asked.

“We can stay for one night and move on to Leeds in the morning,” Bianca suggested. “If we don’t draw up a plan tonight.”

Bianca and Richard got off the carriage. Teddy took the horses to the stables.

“We might hear some gossip from Thornfield Hall here,” Bianca said.

They entered the inn and headed for an empty table near the wall. The innkeeper, upon seeing gentry, hastened to offer them the best service.

Here they heard about Leah’s departure from Thornfield and Mr Rochester’s declining state of mind. He was getting as mad as that wife of his.

“It shouldn’t be that hard, then,” Teddy deliberated between sips of ale and bites of pie. “If we see him roaming outside, I will distract him and you and Richard will go into the house and get her out.”

“We should take Grace as well,” Bianca said.

“Or else she will face his wrath,” Richard added. The next second, he uttered a curse. “Damn it!”

“Really, Richard,” Bianca reproached mockingly.

“What’s the matter, man?” Teddy asked.

“See that fellow that just sat at the counter, in dark brown hat? That’s the clerk from church, the one from the wedding. He might recognise me.”

Indeed, the church clerk’s eyes went to the three strangers at the table. Richard hid the side of his face with a hand and stared into his plate.

“And yet, without him, we would never be here,” Bianca said quietly.

Teddy took his cup and raised it in the clerk’s direction. The man quickly turned back to the counter.

“We’d better finish this meal and go to our rooms,” Bianca murmured.

“I should think so,” Richard said. “This ale makes my stomach turn.”

 

She didn’t expect she would feel like sleeping that night. But it was quite the opposite. With the thoughts of her loved one being so near and, doubtless, worn out from the journey, she fell into peaceful slumber as soon as her head hit the pillow.

 

She dreamt about having a picnic on Lake Como with Antoinette. “We will go to Rome to see my uncle. He will accept us… artists are unconventional…” The scene changed and they were in the carriage. “You must see this place. I thought of you all throughout my stay there…” They ascended outside the Spanish villa. “I’ll show you the beach… and Rosalie’s rose garden.” Bianca pinned a red rose in Antoinette’s hair. “I’ve wanted to do it for so long.” They were walking on the beach hand in hand. They kissed. “You are my dearest,” Antoinette whispered.

A wave rose from the sea and snatched Antoinette away. “No-ooooooooo!” Bianca screamed. “Nooooo!”

Why did the water sound as fist banging on wood?

“Bianca, wake up!”

She opened her eyes. She was back at the inn, her heart racing. There was another bang on the door. “Wake up, for god’s sake!”

She rose and unbolted the door. In front of her stood Teddy and Richard, looking all dishevelled. Richard held a tiny candle.

“What’s the matter?”

“Thornfield Hall is on fire.”

 

Grace Poole

 

Someone was shaking me.

“Wake up, Grace, wake up!”

The face of my mistress blurred before me.

“We have to run, the house is on fire!”

“What?” I rubbed my eyes and stared stupidly in front of me.

“We have to go,” she ordered, “Right now!”

The smell of smoke hit my nostrils. My mistress put on a pair of old boots she had had from the time she arrived. Why was she putting on boots? She walked barefooted, she never needed shoes.

“Come on, Grace!”

I stood up. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, must have been a fallen candle. It’s spreading now.”

We proceeded to the outer room. I grabbed a cloak that had been hanging on the hook of the door for months. It was a man’s cloak—probably Mr Mason left it here that time he came in April. We descended to the second floor.

All at once, we were hit with smoke and heat. The fire was coming from the service staircase. “No chance of getting out through there,” my mistress said. “We have to take the main one.”

We covered ourselves with the cloak and ran along the passage. My eyes were watering from the glare and heat and my nose and throat were filling with smoke. We were both coughing. “Come on, Grace, we will make it,” my mistress kept repeating. “We’ll make it, we’ll make it.”

Several times one or the other of us fell on the stairs. But we made it.

We made it out.

“Oh.” My mistress collapsed on the front lawn. “What now, Grace? I’ve not been out in years. Where do we go, what do we do? Help, Grace!”

I took a few deep breaths to clear my lungs. The chilly night air and the light wind revived me.

My eyes fell on an abandoned wheelbarrow by the corner of the main building. A memory sparked in my mind, a memory from years past, of my husband and me, pushing our little son in a wheelbarrow around the grounds of Grimsby Retreat. My husband was a head gardener there. Of course, I couldn’t think of putting my mistress in a wheelbarrow, she was too big for that, but I felt somewhat rejuvenated by that memory.

I wrapped my mistress in the cloak. “Come, ma’am, come with me. I will lead you.”

I helped her get up and held her hand. We rushed towards the road. “I don’t see where we can go now other than The Rochester Arms inn,” I said. “I have little coin in my pocket, it will suffice. We’ll move to Leeds in the morning. Do you follow, Antoinette?”

“I’m scared, Grace!” she squeezed my hand so hard it hurt.

“Of course you are. But you are safe with me. I will make sure nothing will happen to you.”

It was easier said than done. I would have to keep her wrapped well in that cloak and still it would be clear to everyone at the inn that this was the infamous mad wife from the attic. But there was nowhere else to go. I could have walked to Leeds, even in the dead of the night, but not my mistress, who was shaking as soon as she felt the fresh air on her skin.

It was my turn to encourage her now. “You will make it, ma’am, you will. You can do it, Antoinette.”

I looked up at the stars and uttered a prayer. This had a calming effect on both of us.

“It will be alright, my good lady,” I said, almost smiling.

We started walking down the road towards the inn.

A carriage was approaching us—or should I say, dashing towards us like a furious beast.

“Hide your face, now!” I ordered my mistress. If it was help coming for Mr Rochester, it was better they didn’t see us escaping from Thornfield. Antoinette put the hood over her head and kept her head down. I released her hand but put my arm around her waist and she put hers around my shoulders. “Let that carriage pass and don’t look at the driver.”

But the carriage was coming to a stop.

“Grace Poole!” the driver called, “Antoinette!”

“Teddy!” my mistress cried out.

It was young Lord Ingram.

The door of the carriage opened and Miss Bianca Ingram fell out, followed by Mr Richard Mason. She got up and ran to my mistress with cries of: “Antoinette, oh my Antoinette!” Her face was wet.

“Bianca! Is that really you?” my mistress disentangled from me.

They fell into each other’s arms with tears and exclamations of love and then Mr Mason embraced his sister and she exclaimed: “Oh Richard, I’m so sorry!” and he only said “No, it’s me who’s sorry,” and Lord Ingram jumped down from the driver’s seat and walked up to me and asked me if I was alright. Mr Mason and Miss Ingram then shook my hand and poured words of gratefulness on me and I said it was Antoinette who had saved my life first.

“So, what happened?” Lord Ingram asked.

“We don’t know,” Antoinette said. “It was coming from the service staircase. Maybe someone dropped a candle.”

“Oh, the candle!” I cried. “That candle. It’s all my fault!” I sank to my knees and wept, right there on the road.

“You didn’t set the house on fire, Grace,” my mistress said. “You were sleeping in your chair when it started. Nothing is your fault.”

“I saw that candle. When I was coming up with the tray and jug. I saw it there in the alcove! I left it there.”

“Well, you couldn’t have known,” Lord Ingram said. “If any little candle was to set a house on fire, there would be no houses left anywhere.”

“Maybe it was Edward,” Miss Ingram suggested. “I heard he’s gone savage.”

“It was most likely an accident,” put in Mr Richard Mason.

“It could even have been that dog of his, Pilot,” Antoinette said. “Maybe he was chasing something and overturned the candle.”

“Or maybe a ghost,” suggested Lord Ingram. “Don’t you have ghosts in Thornfield?”

“No, that was just me,” my mistress said and laughed. I stood up.

In a sort of synchronised motion, we all looked at the burning house. None of us spoke. No words needed to be said. It was clear there will be nothing left of Thornfield Hall.

My mistress watched my face closely. “The servants slept on the ground floor,” she said, I knew, to reassure me. “They most likely got out.”

“I’m sure you’re right, ma’am,” said I. I looked at her and she looked at me, then she looked at Miss Ingram and Miss Ingram looked at Mr Mason and Mr Mason looked at my mistress. We were all thinking the same.

“It’s too late to save anyone,” Lord Ingram spoke for all of us. “Whoever hasn’t got out by now…”

“He’s right,” Mr Mason said. “The wind is rising.”

My mistress stared at the burning carcass.

“There’s your prison,” Miss Ingram pointed at it. “Burnt to ash. You are free now, Antoinette.”

She put her hands on my mistress’ shoulders. “You are a free woman.”

“You are free, Antoinette,” echoed her brother.

My mistress wiped the tears from her eyes. “Should we go now?”

“Where to?” asked Lord Ingram. “And please don’t say that inn, because if I have to take more of their ale, I will go and throw myself on that fire.”

“I know, it’s disgusting,” I agreed.

“Absolutely gross,” Mr Mason put in.

My mistress smiled.

I remember the way her face looked to this day. Not only because she was finally out and reunited with her loved one and her brother, not only because she just watched her prison burning down. It was as if she was sharing the first moment with friends, hearing something as ordinary as their impressions of some ale from a local inn, something so wonderfully banal and silly and—human.

I guess awful ale has its uses.

“Leeds, Lord Ingram,” I said. “That’s where we should go.”

“So it is,” he declared. “Everyone, get in the carriage. Next stop, Leeds!”


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dog and Stag inn in Leeds - fictional.

Bianca

 

“I forgot your book,” Antoinette said the next day. “ _Marmion_. I left it in my—in that room. It must be turned to ash now.”

“I will get another one for you. Any book you want.”

They were staying at Dog and Stag, an inconspicuous little inn a bit of a way from the town centre.

Antoinette sat on the bed. Bianca was watching the street from the window and from time to time, paced the room. Antoinette was fidgeting.

“There were some good titles in the Thornfield library,” Antoinette went on. “Grace used to smuggle me some in the early years. Before I—before I stopped caring. It is a waste.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

“I want to tell you about something I did.”

Bianca stopped in the middle of the room. “Something you did? When, Antoinette? You didn’t actually start that fire, did you?”  
“Oh no, no-no-no. Though everyone will think I did. There was—there was that one time I set his bed on fire. But I didn’t mean to do it. I went to his room… Grace fell asleep after having too much gin and I took the keys and let myself out. I only wanted to talk to him. He was…”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“No, please, I need to tell you. He was getting too friendly with the governess, Jane. I meant to tell him to stop doing it, he would break the poor girl’s heart. I found him sleeping in his bed, but the candle was still burning, he must have fallen asleep over his book… there was an open book on his night stand. I needed to find some way of waking him. Everything was so quiet, I didn’t want to make any noise—you know how noise carries in the night. Then he murmured something, in his sleep—he used to do that, you know—and it made me jump and knock down the candle. I got scared and ran out of the chamber. I thought the fire would wake him up. I couldn’t think well… I just rushed back to my attic room. I didn’t tell Grace. She was so cross with me the next day. She said it was that girl that saved his life, the same one I wanted to save from him. I only laughed because what else could I do? Sometimes I would laugh like that and scare my own self.”

“Oh my poor dear!” Bianca sat down next to Antoinette and took her hands in hers. “Go on, then.”

“It started when the little girl came to Thornfield Hall. Grace told me she was an orphaned child of his late friend or something of that sort and straight away I knew that was a lie and the child was a result of one of his affairs. I thought it served him right, having to now look after her and pay a nurse for her and arrange her education—children are no easy feat.”

“They certainly aren’t.”

“So when Grace told me, I thought about it for a bit and how he will have a child to worry about, when he already had me to worry about and it was so funny—so I laughed but it didn’t sound like me. It was like laughing at someone’s misfortune, but worse than that.”

“Germans have a word for it. Schadenfreude.”

“This was even worse. Like—how did you say it?—schadenfreude multiplied. I frightened the poor Grace with my laugh so much she dropped her spoon. I felt bad, but also I felt good—I can’t describe it to you. So I imagined that it wasn’t me that was laughing like that, that it was the other one—Bertha. She was the mad one, Bertha Rochester and I was the sane one, Antoinette Mason.”

“Yes, I think I can understand.”

“Bertha was the one that laughed when his bed caught fire. Bertha was the one that cut Richard with a knife.”

Bianca nodded.

“I bit him too, do you know that? Richard. In the shoulder. Well, she did.”

“Yes, I’ve heard. But as you can see, he survived it. What next?”

“I did something. I mean, me, Antoinette. Not Bertha. Me.”

“What was it?”

“The night before their wedding—but it was two nights, as it turned out. I got the date wrong. Two nights before their wedding, I encouraged Grace with her gin—oh I did that, I admit, but it was the one and only time I have done so. She dozed off, I got the keys, you know how it goes by now. I entered the bride’s room. Jane Eyre’s.”

“You did!”

“She was asleep, of course. I didn’t intend to wake her—it would only scare the life out of her. I wanted to warn her. ‘Don’t marry him, girl’. But I didn’t know how. I couldn’t write her a note, I had no paper, nor pen, and it had been so long since I wrote anything. My handwriting is shaky. Then I saw her wedding dress and the veil hanging through partly open door of her closet. So I took it. The veil, I mean. I put it on my head and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked ghastly, Bianca—like the creature from Caribbean folk tales, La Diablesse. I had to look down and check whether I had a cloven foot. It was a stupid thing to do, trying the veil on, but I hoped to recall the day we got married, me and him, to convince myself I wasn’t mad. Because I wasn’t mad then, even if I was now…”

“You are not mad, Antoinette. But go on.”

“She did wake up. I must have made more noise than I thought. At first it seemed to me she was having bad dreams, she was stirring. Then she said, ‘Sophie?’ I thought she was talking in her sleep, just like him. But I looked at her and saw her eyes were open. She saw me.”

“She saw you? Did she do anything, say anything?”

“No. She didn’t move, just lay on the bed as if she was paralysed. I thought, now is my chance to tell her everything but she looked so scared I was afraid she would scream. And then, I couldn’t speak. Something lodged in my throat. So I tore up the veil in two and let it fall on the carpet. I hoped that it was enough of a sign.”

“What did you do then?”

“I went back to my room. Grace woke when I returned. But I felt dizzy from what I’ve done and went a bit crazy and laughed like Bertha. Grace questioned me, I ignored her. Then she slapped me on the face and Bertha was gone and it was only me. I told her I didn’t hurt Miss Eyre, I only wanted to try the veil on. Then I burst into tears and couldn’t stop and she comforted me and we forgot about it. That was it.”

“That was it… you didn’t hear about it again? About the torn veil?”

“No, nothing. And it was no good after all. It didn’t warn her. She walked with him to the altar and…” Antoinette fell into silence.

“Got humiliated. Richard told me. Not her fault—although, how she didn’t get suspicious with everything she’s seen at Thornfield is a wonder. The attack on Richard, the fire in Edward’s bedroom, the torn veil. But then, maybe she’s too pure to believe people capable of very wicked acts. Especially not her dear Edward. And him, well, if he could make you think you were mad, why not Jane?”

“He blamed it all on Grace. Always, everything. That’s why he was paying her so much money.”

Bianca envisaged Grace Poole tearing up a bride’s veil. The image was ridiculous.

Antoinette put her hands on her temples. “I wish… I wish I could be sure I’m not mad.”

“Have you ever been diagnosed by a doctor other than Carter?”

Antoinette shook her head. “No. Only him.”

“We’ll see what we can do…”

Sounds of footsteps and voices came from the corridor, the next moment there was the agreed signal of three long knocks and two short ones on the door. “Come in,” Bianca called and Teddy and Richard entered the room, accompanied by Grace Poole. Antoinette squeezed Bianca’s hand.

“I come bearing news,” Teddy announced.

The two women on the bed held their breaths.

Teddy threw his hands wide. “He survived.”

A lot of things could be said; none were spoken. A lot of emotions could be felt; they were felt all.

“He’s wounded, though,” Teddy went on. “He’s been blinded and lost a hand. Dr Carter had to amputate it.”

“Where is he now?” Bianca asked.

“At Dr Carter’s. He will have to move to his other estate, Ferndean Manor. Thornfield is a ruin.”

“Everyone else has been saved,” Grace added, answering the look in Antoinette’s eyes. “Even the dog, Pilot. The cats were taken in by the innkeeper’s wife.”

“Apparently, Rochester made sure all servants got out. Also—” the men looked towards Grace, as if to consult her.

“What?” urged Bianca.

It was Grace who answered. “He was heard calling ‘Bertha!’ before the roof crashed.”

There was silence.

“He was looking for me,” Antoinette whispered.

“Of course he has to decide to be heroic right at the last minute,” Bianca murmured in annoyance.

“One good deed doesn’t erase years of bad ones,” Richard said quietly. “But it’s still a good deed.”

Teddy shrugged his shoulders. Grace clasped her hands as if in prayer.

“Do they think I did it?” Antoinette asked.

Grace, Richard and Teddy exchanged looks again. “Umm…”

“They do, then, I can see it in your faces.” She put her hands on her face. “I told Bianca the same. They will come looking for me now.”

“They can try.” Richard walked to the bed and sat down on the other side of his sister. “We will protect you,” he put his arm around her shoulder. “And keep you safe. Me and Bianca, we will, won’t we?”

“We will,” Bianca echoed.

“You do so much for me.”

“Nothing I shouldn’t have done a long ago,” Richard declared with determination. “I wasn’t there for you when I should have been, but I am here now.”

“I have never done anything for anybody,” Bianca said. “I only took, never gave. Now is my turn to give.”

Teddy, seeing the seriousness in his sister’s face, suppressed a witty comment.

Grace spoke: “Should you still require my services, I am willing to look after my mistress for a while longer. Indeed, I still think of her as my mistress. She will need time to adjust.”

Bianca became aware that having got Antoinette out of Thornfield Hall was the easy part. Sane mind or not, being locked up for ten years is not something one just gets over in a day. Hopping on the first boat to West Indies could not be the next step. There was also the matter of her mother, probably frantic with worry by now…

“So, what do we do?” Teddy asked.

“Well,” Bianca got on her feet. “First of all, Antoinette will need some new clothes. I’ll go and take care of that right now, if you could stay with her, Grace, please. I think my size will fit you—and also you’ll need a new pair of shoes. Or two. Teddy, you’d better get some rest, you look like you need it. Richard, you can accompany me or stay here, whichever you prefer.”

“I’ll come along.”

“Splendid.” Bianca leant and kissed Antoinette on the top of her head. “When I’m back we’ll dine and have a little conference. And you, my darling, don’t worry yourself. Everything will be alright in the end.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last one by Grace Poole.

Grace Poole

 

“I wish you had told me, mother,” Robert poured tea in my cup and brought forward a plate of scones. “I really do. It would have saved you a lot of heartache and I would have liked a chance of studying your patient.”

It was several weeks after the fire and I was back in Grimsby Retreat. I only gave a bare summary of what happened to my son and, where possible, concealed the names of those involved. I didn’t think they would appreciate me spreading the story around the county. They had not given me any instructions, for they trusted me. I knew the cheque from Mr Richard Mason was a thank you for my services, not for my silence. It was common sense.

In any case, my son was more interested in his work than the gossip about lives of the noble folk.

“I thought you had enough of your own work and I knew you aimed to become a superintendent,” I said. “Which you have achieved,” I added proudly.

“I’m sure that would not have hindered me. We could have had her examined and she wouldn’t have lost all those years.”

“That’s true, but then she never would have met her love.”

“Yes, I suppose. It worked out for everyone in the end. Your patient got her freedom and this other lady, by marrying the brother, gained the financial security she needed. From what you say, the match was good for him as well.”

“I think that was more to do with Mr Rochester’s downfall.”

I believe now that, for reasons which we’ll never know, Mr Richard Mason used to be terrified of my former master. He is now a much calmer and happier person. As for the marriage of convenience with Bianca Ingram, he seems quite content with that and he and his wife are like brother and sister to each other. Upon my departure, he bestowed on me a generous bonus cheque, with repeated expresses of gratefulness.

My mistress was a tiny bit teary saying goodbye to me. “Go and live and be happy, Grace,” she told me.

A day after what Miss Ingram called the little conference at the inn, Mr Mason and Lord Ingram brought—or, as Lord Ingram likes to say, dragged—Dr Carter to the inn. He, without protesting much, admitted he had made a mistake in his diagnosis all those years ago. The Ingrams also summoned one of their family physicians, Dr Foster, who had special interest in the illnesses of the mind. He too declared her sane, but warned that she will still need care. I stayed on to provide this. We started with the inn’s backyard, then the streets around the inn, then the busier streets in town centre and the market. Her recovery was almost astonishingly speedy, which was, as she never failed to remind us, due to the love and care of those closest to her and, no doubt, due to her tyrant of a husband now all broken and frail. As soon as I saw my services were no longer necessary, I returned to the retreat.

It’s peaceful here among my fellow Quakers. Sometimes I still dream about the fire, but my mind is no longer tormented and I have no need for gin again. I have taken a vow of temperance.

“Your taste for gin died in the fire, just like Bertha Rochester,” my mistress told me. She never liked being called Mrs Rochester or Bertha. “I am Miss Antoinette Mason.” That is how she introduces herself. I don’t know if she really is, I mean in legal sense; it was not my place to ask questions. I know that Miss Ingram—or Mrs Mason, rather—reached out to Sir George Lynn for help and Mr Briggs, the solicitor, arrived to Leeds just as I was leaving. I trust that they will deal with the matter accordingly. The company has also moved to The Mill Cote hotel, a place much more suitable to their class.

Little remains for me to add.

Miss Jane Eyre, that inconspicuous young governess, whose entrance triggered all these events into motion, was at last found alive and safe. In a complete reversal of fortune, not only has she now claimed her inheritance, she has also discovered a family—three cousins, I understand—whom she didn’t know she had. She has also taken little Adele out of the boarding school she was sent to and is taking steps to formally adopt her. One orphan helping another. I hope one day she finds love from a better man that was her master, or remains by happy on her own, either way, I wish her happiness. She deserves that.

Mr Rochester lives at Ferndean Manor with John and Mary. With time, he regained partial eyesight in one eye and is able to move around the house by himself. He learnt to accept that his Jane is lost to him forever and decided to dedicate his life to the community. He has become the living embodiment of repentance. God forgives.

All the other servants from Thornfield Hall have found new employment.

As for me, I am feeling happy and relaxed here. I have been working with Robert and we are planning a new meeting. More importantly, I have been spending time with my niece Hannah (my brother-in-law’s mill being nearby), who is now a girl of nine, with eyes same as my dear Agnes. I teach her to sew, we read together and take walks. I have asked Mr Briggs to set up a trust fund for her, using my earnings from Thornfield. When she grows up, she won’t have to rely on a marriage to be able to have a living.

And who knows, maybe one day I will tell her the story of a madwoman who was locked in the attic, a madwoman that was no madwoman after all.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A warning, just in case - something Antoinette says at the end (concerning herself) might come across as ableist. The Mill Cote Hotel in Leeds - made up, obviously, to honour the town of Millcote in canon, as its known in the book.

Bianca

 

“Isn’t October a beautiful month? Look at the colours, all gold and bronze and crimson!”

“It is,” Bianca agreed. “I would never have noticed if it wasn’t for you.”

“I’m glad that we’re here. Right now, at this moment. I’m glad that we took a walk in this park and that it’s October. I don’t mind having lived through everything I did, if it ends up in this moment, here with you.”

It was a chilly but sunny afternoon, with autumn leaves reflecting the sunlight. Bianca and Antoinette walked with arms linked, Antoinette marvelling at the world around her, Bianca rediscovering it. They made a lovely sight and passing men lifted their hats at them.

Bianca thought back to the sleeping creature she first sighted in the attic room at Thornfield six months ago. “If you loved her then, you love her truly,” Richard told her. It was not possible not to love Antoinette truly. But Richard was right. None of the people that were now so charmed by Antoinette would have cared a fig about her when she was imprisoned in her husband’s house.

This was a lady once, Grace Poole said that time, and a lady was emerging once again. Her movements became graceful, her voice was like the sweetest music. No more mad laughs. Her eyes, dark and deep, lost the desperate look, her hair, black and thick and shiny, was styled in the latest fashion and her skin had a golden brown glow. The horrible bluish tinge was gone.

When she heard she was not mad, when Dr Carter corrected his diagnosis and Dr Foster confirmed it, she flourished—though at first she wouldn’t believe she could.

“I’m thirty-five years old, Bianca,” she said after Dr Foster left, “I fear it’s too late for me.”

“No it isn’t. Your life starts now.”

Things needed to be settled. The little conference at the Dog and Stag on that first day stretched to the late night hour. Bianca wasn’t afraid, she was ready to face any adversary for Antoinette’s sake. Lion’s den, she would enter.

But there was one person she feared. Her mother.

Her hand was a bit unsteady when she wrote the letter, informing Lady Ingram of her sudden marriage. Luckily Lady Ingram took it like a sport, although she threatened to come to Leeds to meet them at once. Bianca managed to pacify her, with Teddy’s help, and promised they would make their way to Ingram Park as soon as possible.

_So that was your Thomas Aston_ , the lady wrote, _you could have told me it was Mr Richard Mason you were meeting. Why, I liked the man from the start. I would have matched you with him then and there, if I didn’t think your groom was to be Edward Rochester. Well I am glad it all turned out like this, though I wish you didn’t keep it such a secret. Mr Mason is ever so handsome and rich too. I hope you will not keep me waiting long. What sort of a place is Leeds for a honeymoon, anyhow?_

Bianca wrote back that it was not a honeymoon and that there was some business to take care of and also Richard’s sister, who was visiting England for the first time. _Teddy’s staying with us to keep her company_.

“For me it feels like a honeymoon,” Antoinette told her.

“And this is nothing yet. Wait until we truly start living.”

“This is better than anything I ever had, Bianca…”

“It’s better than anything I’ve ever had as well. All these things we’re doing—getting Sir George Lynn on board, calling up Mr Briggs from London, rehearsing for the charade at The Mill Cote Hotel tomorrow with Richard—I’m enjoying them, Antoinette. I feel like I’m alive. More alive than I ever was before.”

“And facing your mother?” Antoinette smiled a cheeky smile.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we? First things first.”

The charade at the hotel went smoothly. They landed at the front desk, Bianca and Richard arm-in-arm, their siblings tagging along. “I couldn’t believe something like that would happen to me ever,” Richard said to the clerk, “I have given up on love. There’s nothing for you out there, Richie, I told myself. Last thing I expected when I went to visit my old friend Edward Fairfax Rochester was to meet my future wife. When I looked into her eyes for the first time, I knew she was the one. Alas, I was called away the next day early in the morning, without a chance of speaking to her again.”

He went on and on like that, with Bianca gazing at him and putting her face close to his. Antoinette and Teddy had to look away and bite their lips to stop themselves from laughing. “So there I was in Southampton, scheduled to leave England once again. You need to forget about her, man, I said to myself, for never again will you gaze into her beautiful face. And then, guess who appeared in the hotel lounge? I couldn’t believe my eyes. Miss Ingram, I thought I have dreamt you.”

“It thought I was dreaming too,” Bianca took over. “I happened to be in Southampton with my brother, we were visiting our friend… Thomas Aston. It was Fate that brought us together… decidedly it was Fate…”

The hotel clerk, not the least bit interested in their love story, murmured “how nice” over and over.

“Nice work, Mason,” Teddy praised his brother-in-law. “I couldn’t have done it better myself.”

“And that’s saying something,” Bianca stressed.

And it worked. There was so much buzz about the unexpected nuptials between Bianca Ingram and Richard Mason that everyone forgot about the fire at Thornfield Hall, Edward Rochester and his madwoman of a wife. The wheel was turning the right way.

“It’s strange being without Grace,” Antoinette said on that October day in the park. “For ten years, she was the only person I saw every day.”

“Yes, it must take some getting used to.”

“I feel bad that Teddy is still here. He’s got nothing to do with this, he should be at home in Ingram Park.”

“Come now, dear, you know he is happy helping us. And we need him. It’s a man’s world,” Bianca sighed, “and a Lord Ingram can pull more strings here than a merchant from West Indies, never mind how rich. Besides, you’re the only one that still laughs at his jokes.”

“Bianca!”

“It’s true. I’ve heard them a hundred times and I don’t think Richard cares much for jokes.”

A figure in pale pink dress and grey coat was rushing towards them.

“Why, if it isn’t Bianca Ingram!”

The gold curls and cheerful face could not be mistaken. “Amy Eshton!”

“It’s so good to see you here. I can’t believe it! Congratulations, Mrs Richard Mason!”

They hugged. “Thank you, Amy. Let me introduce to you my sister-in-law, Miss Antoinette Mason.”

“It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Miss Mason. You’ve come from West Indies, I believe? How wonderful! How are you liking England?”

It was important not to panic. _Why did we not prepare for a situation like this?_ _Bother it, Amy… I like you but why do you have to spring on us like this… come on, Antoinette, say something, say something, SAYSOMETHING_ —

Antoinette said something. “The… autumnal colours here are beautiful.”

“Oh yes, they are.” Amy turned to Bianca. “I’m just running some errands for father, I hope we can catch up soon. You’re staying at The Mill Cote?”

Bianca nodded. “You should come see us one of these days. We’re still here for a week or two. Bring Louisa as well.”

“I will. We need to hear everything about this romance of yours. You’ve kept it so quiet! See, I thought you looked enamoured at Thornfield but I assumed it was with… well, you know who…” Amy shuddered.

Bianca could feel Antoinette tense up.

Amy continued: “Father went to have a look at Thornfield and said it was a complete ruin.”

“Yes, we saw it,” Bianca said cautiously.

“We were about to go there for a visit, in fact,” Antoinette spoke confidently. “My brother mentioned this Thornfield Hall to me a lot and it was the place where he met his wife, so naturally I was curious. Such a waste.”

“Isn’t it! Though I don’t know that I liked it much myself—too gloomy for me. Still I don’t understand how it could burn down like that. It was thought at first that it was that mad wife of his that did it… but they say now that he didn’t actually have a mad wife—I mean, that he had one but she wasn’t mad. He kept her hidden in the attic so that he could meet other women. Louisa doesn’t believe that can be true, but mother says he did have other women. Apparently this Mrs Rochester has some relatives in London who have come for her. Poor thing, it must have been horrible for her.”

Bianca and Antoinette murmured in agreement.

“Anyway, if the fire wasn’t started by the mad wife, because she wasn’t a mad wife, then it must have been some kind of accident, though that is not as much interesting a topic to discuss, is it?” Amy smiled mischievously.

“Not interesting at all,” Bianca agreed.

“I must fly now, hope I can see you later? I need to have a proper look at this new husband of yours, I didn’t get a chance the first time.” She laughed.

“For sure. Teddy’s with us as well.”

“Oh is he? Well, so long, Bianca. Pleased to meet you, Miss Mason. Have a good day!”

And with this, Amy Eshton walked off, almost dancing on her toes.

Bianca looked at the other woman. “Antoinette?”

Antoinette exhaled deeply. “She… she thought I was… normal. Oh, Bianca!”

“So you believe that you’re ready to face the world now?”

Antoinette laughed. “I feel I can do anything.”

“And you can. That was bold what you said about visiting Thornfield. I’m proud of you, wife.”

“I will never forget this, ever. Amy Eshton… she’s the one whose father is a magistrate, am I right?”

Bianca nodded. “Their house, Leas, is only ten miles from town. We stayed there for a while before we came to Thornfield in the spring.”

“Did she really mean it that she was going to visit us at the hotel?”

“She did. Amy is not false like some people and also—“

“Also what?”

“Teddy’s here.”


	26. Chapter 26

Bianca

There were tears in Antoinette’s eyes. But the tears were of joy.

They were in Sir George Lynn’s office. The MP, big-bellied, bearded and very gentlemanly, sat behind his desk, the ladies in the chairs on the other side of it. Teddy and Richard stood behind them. Mr Briggs was by the window.

“I don’t need to tell you that we are forever indebted to you, Sir George,” Bianca said.

“Ah, worry not about that, my dear Bianca. It was my pleasure to help. It will, of course, take some time for the marriage to be officially dissolved but I don’t see there being much difficulty.”

“Was there any opposition from Mr Rochester?” Richard asked.

“I can’t say there was. Once we presented him with the doctors’ testimonies, he admitted defeat. To be truthful, he seems as anxious to be out of it as Mrs Rochester—pardon, Miss Mason. I’ve never seen anyone this broken. And it serves him quite right!” he banged his fist on the table. “We are all disgusted by his behaviour. Lady Lynn was so shocked when she heard of it, she had to go lie down.”

_In a dark room with a wet towel around her forehead_.

And so what if she did? If it helped her...

“What about the property?” Richard asked.

“Ah, here comes the real question. We have managed to get the majority of your sister’s funds back, though some it will have been, naturally, lost. I’m confident we’ll be able to get back about twenty thousand pounds.”

Richard put his hand on Antoinette’s shoulder and squeezed it. Bianca reached out and touched Antoinette’s arm on the other side. “That is fantastic, Sir George!”

“I can’t thank you enough, sir,” Antoinette whispered.

“I will be going to Westminster next week, where the final steps will be taken. As far as I’m concerned, you are free to return to West Indies, should you wish to do so.”

Bianca spoke: “One more thing, Sir George. We would like to ensure that people won’t connect Mrs Rochester, who was rescued from the fire by her carer and taken to London, with my sister-in-law Antoinette Mason. At least for now.”

Sir George nodded. “That is, of course, understandable. The only people that know the true identity of Mr Rochester’s wife are those in this room. You have my word that this knowledge will not go further.”

Bianca worried for a second that Sir George may have told his wife something—but Sir George was not the type of a man to discuss his work with his wife and, more importantly, he didn’t gossip. They were safe. Grace Poole was back with her fellow Quakers, far away from the noble company Rochester used to keep and she would keep it to herself too.

And thus the meeting was concluded, hands were shaken, everything that needed to be signed was signed and everything that needed to be mailed was mailed.

Two of the people that left Sir George Lynn’s office that day felt so light, they believed they could fly without wings.

And maybe they really did.

 

“I’ve been informed by Briggs,” Richard told them back in the hotel suite, “that Miss Jane Eyre has been found safe.”

“Oh, thank god,” Antoinette exclaimed with relief.

Bianca never cared about some Jane Eyre or other, she never did—but still. “Good,” she said. “Why should a young girl endanger herself for some deceitful man?”

She was sure didn’t care about Jane Eyre.

“She found refuge with her cousins in Derbyshire,” Richard reported.

“She has cousins?” Bianca was surprised.

“She does and funny thing is, old Eyre mentioned them to me once but I forgot. They’re his sister’s children, the Riverses. Two girls and a boy. But he quarrelled with their father years ago and never made peace. That’s why he left everything to Jane. Somehow she found them, or they found her or, who knows, Fate brought them together as it did us.”

“So,” Antoinette said, “the penniless, friendless orphan is now a rich woman with a new family.”

“I wonder if Rochester would have done what he did, had he known about her uncle and the inheritance,” Bianca mused.

“She won’t keep all of it, though,” Richard went on. “Briggs says she wishes to split the inheritance among the four of them equally—five thousand each.”

“That is really nice of her,” Bianca said with honesty.

“Is anything known about the child Adele?” Antoinette asked.

“I know nothing of her.”

“Didn’t she go to some school?” Bianca said.

“She did, I only wanted to know how she was doing.”

“Well, let’s forget about other people now.” Richard brought forward a package he had carried with him. “I have something for you two.”

He unwrapped the package and took out two smaller boxes, long and thin and glossy. “One for each of you,” he handed one to his wife and one to his sister.

Inside the boxes were identical platinum necklaces with amber pendants. “I thought you would like something that would remind of you of each other, instead of wedding rings. You are pretty much wives…”

“Richard, they’re beautiful!” They both cried in unison.

“And another thing I wanted to tell you. I will come with you to Jamaica the first time, but I don’t think I will be there much. I want to take charge of John Eyre’s business in Madeira, as was his wish and I’m thinking of establishing one here in England too. I’ve been discussing this with Teddy, he is keen to start a partnership. A man needs a profession. Teddy doesn’t have to go down the way of gambling and drinking like too many other young heirs have, out of sheer boredom.”

“There’s nothing worse than idleness,” Antoinette said absent-mindedly. “It drives you into madness.”

Bianca and Richard looked at each other, then at her. Bianca went and embraced Antoinette tightly.

“Well, I think I fancy a little game of billiards,” Richard announced cheerfully. “I will see you down at dinner.”

The door closed behind him.

“I thought Teddy went to the park with the Esthon sisters,” Antoinette said.   
“He’ll find someone to play billiards with. It’s a big hotel.”

“I want to tell you something I decided on.”

“Go ahead.”

“I decided to forgive Edward.”

“Do you think he deserves it? I don’t think I could… but you know better.”

“It’s not that he deserves it,” Antoinette sighed. “I want nothing more than to live my life in peace. With you. How can I, if I hold grudges? And now that we know Jane Eyre is safe… It couldn’t have ended better. The two of us are together. I got my brother back. Richard is happier than I’ve ever seen him. Teddy got to live out a real life adventure. Grace Poole is reunited with her son and her people and I know she won’t touch gin again. Even Mr Briggs benefited from this. Edward lost his sight, a hand and the woman he loved. He lost Thornfield. He will have to live for the rest of his life with what he did. I want to move on.”

“The Spanish villa,” Bianca said. “I understand now, Antoinette.”

“What is with the Spanish villa?”

“Mother took us there to mend my broken heart—or she thought, but never mind that. What is important is that Mary met Lord Harlington there.”

“You see?”

“And the gentleman Louisa Eshton said she’s been corresponding with… with whom she hopes to more than correspond with one day… is Lord Harlington’s cousin and they met at Mary’s wedding.”

“Edward Fairfax Rochester,” Antoinette murmured, “the man who wanted to play everyone but instead got played himself.”

“I forgot to tell you,” Bianca said. “I have recommended Leah, your former housemaid, to join the staff at Lord Harlington’s household. She will work for my sister. You and Grace had the truth between you. Edward never made a move on her, but she was scared he would. Apparently he once met her outside the servants’ hall with a wild look on his face. She was wearing one of Jane Eyre’s aprons. She didn’t think she did anything bad, with Miss Eyre gone, she wouldn’t need her apron, but it wasn’t that. For a second he thought he saw his Jane and almost grabbed her. He realised his mistake straight away, but Leah never felt safe after that and left.”

“He came to yell at me for that,” Antoinette remembered. “He threw a teacup against the wall. It was quite a bizarre encounter. Do you know what, Bianca, I think there was a part of him that still wanted me. Had I told him he could have me, he would have taken me then and there.”

“Ugh. Why are men so gross?”

“They aren’t usually—at least not every single one of them. Edward is just—rotten. I don’t know how he came to be such way. Maybe now that he’s alone he will have time to contemplate and finally make peace with his past. Or whatever it was that hurt him.”

“You’re such a generous soul. You still think well of him.”

“I know what it’s like not to be cared about by anyone. Or be cared about by someone who can’t do much for you. I met you at my darkest hour. I think I would really have gone mad, had you not come to my life… or to the attic room, which was my life, anyway… so much so, even Dr Foster wouldn’t have given me a chance. And poor Grace Poole would have been swimming in gin by now. You saved my life, Bianca. More, you saved my soul.”

“No, you saved mine. I was a selfish person, Antoinette. I was false to everyone. I laughed at poor Lady Lynn behind her back—and look what her husband did for us. I was only nice to Grace at first because I wanted to know about what was going on in the attic. I probably scared that child at Thornfield for life—but I’m terrified of children myself.”

“I’ll make sure I keep you away from them,” Antoinette laughed. “What else?”

“I was quite nasty to that Jane girl too. But you know, that was a good experience for her. In life you don’t always deal with nice people. At least she’s had practice.”

“Oh, you!”

“That stupid Edward really cared about her, eh?”

One thing was certain, that despite everything he had done, there was no doubt his love for Jane Eyre was true.

“He did. I guess he just goes for that type.”

“You know, she’s not ugly. Just a bit plain. I bet if we worked on her, we’d turn her into an eye-pleasing creature. She’ll never be a stunner like us, when it comes to that—but she has potential.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last one. Apologies for the lame as hell cheesy trick at the end but I just couldn't resist. Thank you for reading!

Bianca

They found Richard playing billiards with Louisa Eshton.

“Oh hello there, pretty ladies,” Louisa greeted them in a sing-song voice.

“Why is it just you two?” Antoinette looked around, confused. “Where are Teddy and Miss Amy?”

Both Richard and Louisa shrugged. “In Wonderland?” Louisa guessed. “Mr Mason informs me you are set to leave for Ingram Park the day after tomorrow.”

“Yes,” Bianca affirmed. “We sail for West Indies in a fortnight.”

“I might come say good-bye, when I’m in town tomorrow.” Louisa sighed. “I need to get a new shawl but can’t decide on the colour and Amy’s no help these days.”

“I think turquoise would suit you very well, Miss Eshton,” Antoinette said. “With your colouring.”

“Why thank you, Miss Mason, turquoise it is. You have most exquisite taste, I must say. I wish you were staying longer solely to give out some style tips. I know I’m being selfish—I can’t blame you for wanting to go back to your sunshine.”

“Well, maybe next time?” Antoinette smiled.

“I should hope so. You will be missed, Bianca, the parties will never be the same without you. But I’m happy for you. What a difference a half-year makes! Six months ago neither you nor Mary knew your prospective husbands and look at you now. She is Lady Harlington and you a wife of a wealthy West Indies merchant. How unpredictable life is.”

“Yes, I think about that a lot.”

They played some more billiards and conversed about fashion and travelling. It was almost time for dinner, when two figures entered from the hotel garden. They were flushed—though not entirely from the cold—and held hands. They were young and beautiful and looked like they conquered the world.

“We’re engaged,” they announced.

Cheers and congratulations ensued. Bianca looked at the couple with love. Teddy and Amy were always the end game. Nothing that happened or not happened would change that. Amy will be good for Teddy and Teddy will be good for Amy. _Now everything is sorted and we can leave_.

But not everything. There remained the small matter of Lady Ingram. Speaking of which…

“Did you really mean it when you said you liked our mother?” Bianca asked Amy.

“I can manage Lady Ingram,” was the answer. Nothing more, nothing less.

“The wedding won’t take place for some time yet, I expect…”

“Maybe not for a year and a half, or even two years. But it doesn’t matter. I can wait. I know we belong together.”

_Oh yes, I know that feeling._

“Good. Now, it’s never too soon to start preparing. When it comes to being a mistress of Ingram Park, first of all you need to get into the butler’s good books. The rest is easy.”

“Oh that.” Amy leant and whispered in Bianca’s ear. “Patterson is my good friend. We got on marvellously at Mary’s wedding.”

“Then, my dear Amy, all I can say is, congratulations on becoming Lady Ingram.”

Dinner that night was either exceptionally good, or nobody cared what they served—depends on who you ask. What is certain is that they had the best wine, cheesecake for dessert and lots and lots of laughter.

For The Mill Cote Hotel Six, as Teddy nicknamed them, that evening became their favourite occasion, with joy recalled at all future gatherings.

After dinner, they moved to the piano lounge and played and sang songs.

The companions clapped when Bianca finished playing one piece and she dramatically stood up and bowed to them. At that moment, hers and Antoinette’s eyes met. Antoinette mouthed: “I love you”.

If it was ever possible for time to freeze, it was then.

Because Bianca would never forget that moment for the rest of her life. “You will never know love,” said the old gypsy fortune teller who was really Edward Rochester. He was wrong. She knew love, she gave it and received it.

This day marked the beginning of their life together and a life it was long and happy. Days, months, years they spent together, every one happier than the last. From decorating and furnishing their house in Spanish Town, to buying a small hut on the beach and helping Teddy and Amy get one for themselves, to their travels around Europe, the stays in London and Paris and Vienna and Rome… with Uncle Cesare who gave them his blessing… and numerous more visits to Rosalie’s Spanish villa… Rosalie who became their Fairy Godmother of sorts… to immersing themselves in business with Richard in Madeira, to the quiet evenings they spent together, just the two of them.

But it was that silent declaration of love from Antoinette, on that November evening, in the lounge of The Mill Cote Hotel, that became her most cherished memory of all.

 

Two days later, a carriage drew up in front of the main entrance to Ingram Park. The same carriage that charged away to the unknown adventure months ago was now returning.

“Ready to face the dragon?” Antoinette said teasingly.

Bianca sighed. It had to be done at last. “Let’s go.”

Teddy got off the driver’s seat and helped Antoinette out of the carriage.

Richard sprang down and stretched his hand towards Bianca. “Come then, Mrs Mason.”

She gladly took his hand and descended. They started walking towards the entrance.

From inside the house, Patterson threw the doors open. Out emerged Lady Ingram—with her arms wide open. “Come in, my dear children.”

 

Two weeks later, they watched the English coast get smaller and smaller until it disappeared beyond the horizon. Richard, guessing this was something they wanted to share together undisturbed, wisely took himself off to the cabin.

They boarded _Bianette_ in Liverpool, not wishing to subject Antoinette to too long a journey in a closed carriage. But she was recovering.

Bianca’s insomnia vanished. She slept like a baby every night.

“I don’t know how I feel,” Antoinette said. “I lived in England for almost eleven years and know nothing of it.”

“We will come back one day,” Bianca promised.

“We must be there for Teddy and Amy’s wedding. I’m not missing that for the world.”

“We’ll be there. You also need to see London, otherwise nothing’s worth it. Then Paris. And Rome. I’ve been thinking about my uncle Cesare. You know, I have a hunch. I think he will support us.”

“I trust your judgement, wife.”

“And we must go to the Spanish villa too. Rosalie welcomes everyone.”

“And when we get home, we will need servants, but I won’t have any slaves. If we buy any, we’ll give them freedom and pay them proper wages.”

“That is without question.”

Ellie didn’t come with them, she remained in Ingram Park instead. She would later serve as a lady’s maid to Lady Amy Ingram.

The air was cold and crisp. The sky was clear blue, full of white clouds. Seagulls were screaming over their heads.

“Bianca?”

“Antoinette?”

“This ship…”

“Yes?”

“She’s called _Bianette_.”

“Yes.”

“It’s… it’s like our names merged together.”

“Bianette,” repeated Bianca. “You’re right, it is!”

 

The ship sailed across the Atlantic for many, many more years.


End file.
